


Hollow Moon

by Faye_Reynolds



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, M/M, Sassy Peter and Stiles, Spark!Stiles, Werewolf! Stiles, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Scott and Derek are nearly killed by a rival pack, while Stiles is knocked unconscious, the human reconsiders Peter’s offer to give him the bite and why he said no in the first place. Stiles tells Peter to ask him again but before he agrees he has one condition. Peter can’t turn anyone else after him.</p><p>(Originally from <a href="http://theflagofheaven.co.vu/post/120306965319/hollow-moon-teen-wolf-au-after-scott-and-derek">my post</a> on tumblr. I modified it a bit, but it'll still be the same basic plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Been Running From It

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to post this first chapter to see if there's any interest in this and to get the creative juices flowing for this story.
> 
> Probably looking at around 20 chapters total, maybe more or less.
> 
> If there's enough interest then I'll update faster, but other than that, updates will be slow because I'm currently enrolled in 19 credit hours for college.
> 
> First time writing anything Teen Wolf, so sorry if anyone seems OOC. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and pretty please send comment, concerns, things you want to see, etc. I want this to be the best it can be.
> 
> *Not edited because I'm a very overworked college student at the moment*
> 
> Love, peace, and chicken grease,
> 
> Faye.

"SCOTT! Get out of the--"

That's the last thing Stiles was able to say before everything went black.

He came to a half an hour later being carried over someone's shoulder. 

"Grndfl?" He mumbled.

“Even with I heightened hearing, I couldn’t quite make that out Stiles.” 

Recognizing the voice below him, Stiles jerked up immediately and hit his head on a passing tree. He groaned in pain. 

“Do you even ever try to be careful?” Peter asked with a sigh. 

“Yeah but there’s this whole werewolf thing, don’t know it you’ve heard of it.”

The Alpha grunted.

Stiles tried to move but a shot of pain burst through his side. He gave up and placed his elbows on Peter’s broad shoulder as he looked around the woods they were walking through. He didn’t recognize them. 

“So, Demon Wolf, wanna tell me what happened?”

Peter started whistling, intentionally ignoring Stiles. 

Stiles asked again and again and again, but Peter still ignored him. 

“Fine! Peter, could you please tell me what happened? Also, where we’re going?”

“My house and I’ll tell you when we get there since you did asked so very nicely.”

“Your house? Since when do you have a house? Oh my god, it’s a cave, isn’t it? You’re taking me to your creepy little cave where no one will ever find me.”

Stiles was promptly thrown on the ground and he hissed in pain at the old and new bruises he felt. 

“We’re here.”

Stiles looked up and past where Peter’s silhouette was walking. His eyes widened at the large house in front of him.

He was about to ask thirty questions at once, but was interrupted by Peter who didn’t even turn around. 

“You wouldn’t be hurt as bad as you are if you had just accepted my offer.”

Stiles glared at the man who had turned around to gauge Stiles’ reaction. 

“Really? Now? You’re going to bring that up now?”

Stiles stood up with only minor noises of pain and brushed the dirt off his jeans.

“It’s important now.” Peter responded calmly.

“Why?”

“Because that attack tonight was premeditated, they knew everything Stiles.”

“How would me being a werewolf have helped?”

Stiles had thought about that moment more times than he cared to mention. He had said no at the time because he saw what it had done to Scott and Derek and even Peter. He didn’t want to lose his humanity. He didn’t want to become that…at the time. But now? 

“You wouldn’t have been knocked out, for one.” Peter held up a single finger.

After everything that’s happened? Everyone that’s been hurt protecting him when he couldn’t protect himself. 

“Two,” Peter’s second finger shot up, “you could be fighting harder instead of finding the nearest useless weapon to defend yourself. You could be a weapon.”

Why had he said no? What or who has he help by remaining human all this time? Is his humanity worth the lives of those he loves and cares for?

“And three,” Peter held up a final third finger, “you wouldn’t be standing there with several broken ribs and fading bruises while my nephew and your best friend remain unconscious at Deaton’s.”

Stiles’ thoughts stopped running a mile minute and he looked at Peter, looked directly into the Alpha’s eyes.

He steeled his nerves and moved closer to Peter who was leaning against the side of the porch.

“Ask me.” He said clearly.

Peter looked confusedly at Stiles.

“Again. Ask me if I want it again.” Stiles stared defiantly at Peter.

“Want what?” Peter responded evasively.

Stiles’ expression changed from defiant to exasperated. 

“The bite, Peter, ask me again.”

Peter pushed himself of the building with his foot and stepped closer into Stile’s space.

Stiles stood firm and didn’t even flinch when Peter leaned in close to inhale his scent. 

Peter hummed, something akin to satisfaction in the noise, and looked at Stiles, eyes flashing red for a moment.

“Do you want the bite?”

Stiles closed his eyes, determination wavering slightly with the reality of the situation closing in on him and the memory of the first time they had this conversation. 

“Stiles, if it doesn’t kill you and it could, you’ll become like us.”

Stiles opened his eyes and all he could see was the blue of Peter’s eyes. He didn’t move away.

“Like you?” He mirrored his own words from the past conversation.

“Yes, like me. A werewolf. When I bit Scott, I bit him because I needed him in my pack, but you? I’m giving you the choice, the chance. Well, the second chance, but still the choice is yours.”

Peter slowly grabbed Stiles’ right wrist and pulled it up towards his mouth when he met no resistance. 

No long sleeve blocked the path this time, just skin-to-skin contact where Peter’s hand met Stiles’ wrist. 

The warmth and adrenaline sent a jolt through Stiles’ body and a shiver danced down his spine.

Peter tightened his grip slightly and looked into Stiles’ eyes.

“Yes or no?”

Stiles’ heart was beating almost too fast to hear the question, or his answer for the matter.

“Yes.”

Peter smiled like the predator he was and Stiles saw his fangs appear.

“But.” Stiles said.

Peter groaned and dropped their joined limbs down, but didn’t let go. The alpha’s fingers lingered on Stiles’ pulse point almost absentmindedly. 

“What is it Stiles?” Peter asked, tone exhausted and a bit frustrated.

“This is a pact, right? A promise?” Stiles asked and licked his dry, cracked lips.

Peter’s eyes were still on Stiles’ lip when he responded.

“Yes, if you survive the bite, I’m making a promise to guide and protect you as your Alpha and as you will for me and all other pack members.”

“I want to add another promise to that.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose at that.

“This is a first. Very well Stiles, what is it?”

“After me, regardless if I live or not, you can’t change anyone else.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean it, Peter. You claim to have changed. All you’ve said since you came back from the dead is that you don’t want power. You just want a pack. Well this is it. Our little ragtag group of Beacon Hills strays is your pack. If you mean it, then you’ll promise me, right now, that unless I say so, you won’t bite anyone else after me.”

Stiles thought that Peter would need more convincing or at least some time to think, but he just brought Stiles’ wrist back up towards his mouth.

“I promise you Stiles.” Peter said seriously before turning to cradle Stiles’ pale wrist in both hands.

Stiles’ stared at the moment of severity and tenderness from Peter.

“Do you want the bite, Stiles?” Peter asked for a final time.

“I do.” Stiles responded.

Peter smiled brightly before his fangs sunk deep into Stiles’ skin.


	2. All My Lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I was not expecting such an amazing response! Y'all are so nice and supportive and I already love you!  
> I'm working on responding to the lovely comments and this semester is almost reaching an end so I can hopefully write some more chapters during my break.  
> I'm so terribly sorry for the wait! Honestly, I hadn't realized it had been two months! I'm hoping to update somewhat regularly and will try to keep a schedule of every two weeks because I have a feeling that this story is going to be a bit longer than I originally planned.  
> Okay, so with that out of the way. ENJOY!  
> Again, please leave any and all comment, concerns, things you want to see, etc. I'm still working out the story and want this to be the best it can be!  
> Love, peace, and cozy fleece,  
> Faye.

Peter looked into the eyes of the pack’s – _his_ pack’s – newest addition and smiled.  
  


Three words ran on a continuous loop in his head as he watched him pin Isaac to the ground.

   
_Beautiful. Dangerous. MINE.  
_  

As if Stiles had heard him, the younger man turned to him with a feral smile and flashed his eyes, a beautiful mix of purple and green, like lavender on a forest ground, before lunging at Peter.

* * *

 

**Three Weeks Earlier**

 

Deaton sighed as he cleared yet another examination table for Stiles’ unconscious body currently being held close by Peter.  
 

“How is it that every time I see you, someone is either unconscious, bleeding, bruised, or all of the above?”  
 

Peter huffed out a small laugh, eyes never leaving Stiles’ body in his arms.  
 

“Not sure Deaton, call it bad luck? Or being in the wrong place at the right time?”  
  


Peter looked at Scott and Derek who were still a little bruised and unconscious, but alive.  
 

“I believe there’s a word for that.”  
  


“Oh?”  
 

“It’s called manipulation.”  
  


Peter smiled bright and wide.  
 

“I prefer the term advantageous.”  
 

“Yes, I assume _you_ would. Lay him here.”  
  


Peter gently put Stiles’ warm body down on the cold, metal table in an unexpectedly tender gesture. It didn’t go unnoticed by Deaton who cleared his throat.  
  


“Something to say?”  
  


“As you know, I do not fall to one side or the other.”  
  


Peter sighed and rested his hand against Stiles’ rapidly beating heart.  
  


“But?” He questioned and looked at Deaton who was staring at where Peter’s hand was.  
  


“But this is dangerous, Peter. _He_ is dangerous.”  
  


Peter’s shot a proud and toothy smile at Deaton.  
  


“I know that.”  
 

Deaton shot a fierce glare at Peter and the smile on the other man’s face died.  
  


“You don’t. Did Stiles tell you that he’s been studying Emissary practices this summer?”  
  


“No he didn’t,” Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion as to where Deaton was going with this lecture, “Ninety percent of what he says to me is either sarcastic, condescending, or both.”  
  


“A good match for yourself then, no? Still, while he was here studying, he got his hands on a spell book.”  
 

Peter laugh, “Really? So? It’s not like he’s a Spark or anything. He’s just…Stiles.”  
  


When all he received was a slightly less aggressive glare from Deaton, Peter’s jaw dropped.  
  


“You’re kidding me. You’re _fucking_ kidding me.”  
  


“I’m not known for my sense of humor, Peter.”  
  


Peter growled and in an instant had Deaton against the wall with a tight grip around the faux-veterinarian’s throat. For all his worth, Deaton looked unfazed.  
  


Peter’s eyes flashed red, sudden lack of assurance and possible loss affecting him severely.  
  


“What is going to happen to _him_?” Peter growled out, unsuccessfully trying to regain control over himself.  
 

Deaton could feel Peter’s uncertainty and tried his best to remain calm. Peter had been and remained the most unpredictable of the Hales and he always remained on guard around the Alpha.  
 

“I don’t know Peter,” the hand tighten around his throat and Deaton stared unflinchingly into the fiery red eyes, “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Honestly, Stiles doesn’t know what he is yet and he’ll probably need twice as much training as the others.”  
  


Peter temporarily gained some control and dropped Deaton to the ground.  
  


His chest was heaving with the power it was taking to keep his emotions in control.  
  


Whenever Peter found himself in a state like this, he found he often had little to no control over what he said.

  
“All my lifetime, especially since th-the fire, I’ve run from this. I didn’t want what the rest of the pack wanted, what I was _told_ I’d want. I’d seen what happened to wolves that lost their m-mate. It looked like a fate worse than death and I was terrified of that happening to me, so I’ve steered clear. I-I didn’t know Deaton, I swear I didn’t know until I bit him. And now? Now…I… I _cannot_ lose him. Not now. Not like this.”  
 

Deaton sighed, regardless of his intentions, he knew that Peter would have never agreed to turn Stiles unless he knew Stiles was finally ready and that he would be one hundred percent fine. He knew how deeply Peter felt emotions and how much of his energy went to hiding his emotions. He knew just how much Peter had truly lost in the fire and why his rage and revenge was so volatile and destructive. He knew what Stiles was to Peter and in that moment, with Stiles unconscious and Peter near tears with frustration and concern, Deaton made a decision. Against his vows, his code, and the balance, he swore that as long as his had breath in his body, the pack of Beacon Hills would have his protection and guidance.  
  


Deaton placed a solid hand on Peter’s trembling shoulder.  
  


“I know Peter. Stiles is strong. He _will_ wake up."  
 

Peter sighed shakily, “I-I need some air.”  
  


“Take your time.”  
  


Peter stepped outside into the cool night air and took several deep breaths, trying to gather his thoughts and brace himself for what’s to come. It was going to be a long, hard, and exhausting journey for their pack, but he hoped, in the end, everything he’s done and everything he still had left to do, would be worth it.

   
Lost in his thoughts of hope and of the future, Peter missed the soft footsteps creeping behind him and the hard hit to the back of his head that knocked him out.

* * *

 

When Peter came to, he immediately recoiled at the stench of a creature he’d long forgotten existed.  
 

“Ah, hello Peter, it’s… _good_ …to see you again.” Spoke a voice from a dark corner from the other side of the room.  
  


Peter sighed. Though he’s always been a fan of the dramatics, at the moment, this entire situation is getting on his nerves and wearing his, already thin, patience into dust.  
  


“Darian? That you? Christ, how long has it been?”  
  


“Long enough.”  
  


“Of course, so any reason for the assault and kidnapping?”  
  


“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the whole hunters in your pack thing? Or maybe it’s the fact that a pack just wiped out my entire nest and yours is the only known pack in the surrounding area? Or maybe it’s the newest member of your pack? Your newest little boy toy? Does he know what happened to the last one?”  
  


Peter growled and fought against the burn from the silver chains binding him to the chair.  
  


“OH!” Darian exclaimed. “It seems I’ve struck a nerve.”  
  


“Darian, why the hell would do you think I’d go after a nest? Especially one that’s yours? There haven’t been any deaths in our town or territory so we’d have no reason to seek you out. Not to mention, the fact that some of my pack have been out of commission for the past week because of a rival pack trying to take our territory, among other plans I have yet to figure out.”  
  


With thoughts of Stiles and the rest of the pack without their Alpha and guidance, Peter breaks through the last of the burn and chains and stands up to Darian’s shock.  


“Look, I’m sorry about your nest and I'm sorry that your _silver_ chains are shit, but I have a lot to do. So, unless you’re going to help us, only come back to me when you’re, one,” Peter held up a finger, “thinking rationally, two,” another finger, “when there are no other threats against my pack, and three,” a final finger, “if my pack will agree to help you, which after this whole thing comes to light, will be highly unlikely.”  
  


Darian seemed to recover and Peter could smell his anger and anguish through the powerful, acrid stench of a skinwalker.  
  


Peter walked to the door, knowing Darian wouldn’t attempt to restrain him again.  
  


“Oh, and one more thing,” Darian looked at Peter with just barely hidden contempt, “If you come after me or any member of _my_ pack, I will burn you alive, our friendship notwithstanding.”  
  


Peter stared long enough to make sure Darian understood before he left.

* * *

 

When Peter finally made it back to Deaton’s, he was exhausted, but he just needed to see his pack and make sure they were okay.  
  


He burst through the front door and saw something he’d never seen before.  
  


Deaton. Pacing.  
  


“Peter. Where did you go? I tried calling you.”  
  


Peter couldn’t see the back room where the boys were and could tell Deaton was purposely blocking him from walking back there.  
  


“What’s wrong?”  
  


“It’s Stiles…” Deaton started.  
  


Peter was in the back in an instant.  
 

“…he’s gone.” He finished.  
  


“What. Happened.” Peter ground out between clenched teeth. This night was beginning to be too much, even for him, and now Stiles was missing.  
  


“He woke up and said ‘Peter. Home. Alpha.’ before he ran out of the building.”  
  


Peter growled, “Why wasn’t he in a circle of mountain ash?”  
  


“It wouldn’t have worked Peter. At least, I don’t think it would. If I’m right about Stiles being a Spark, then everything we currently know about werewolves is useless. If I’m right, then Stiles is an entirely new and unprecedented species and perhaps one of the most dangerous we’ve ever seen.”  
  


“ _Fuck._ ” Though he’d never admit it, Peter was starting to feel some regret about giving Stiles the bite.  
  


That immediately went out the window when the most intoxicating scent invaded his senses. It reminded him of _love, sex, power, magic, home,_ and _mine._ He also smelled curly fries.  
  


Peter turned around slowly to see a surprisingly composed Stiles standing hesitantly in the doorway of the clinic.  
  


“Stiles?”  
  


Peter immediately rushed towards the younger man and began scenting him.  
  


Peter moved towards Stiles’ neck and stopped just short of kissing the pale skin before he slowly and lightly ran his nose along the long line, feeling the pulse accelerating before smiled against the warm skin.  
  


Stiles let it happen, there was a huge advantage to already knowing why werewolves did certain things, like scenting, so he wasn’t _entirely_ creeped out by it.   
  


However, he spoke up when Peter started to lick behind Stiles’ ear _in front of a very uncomfortable Deaton_ , he gently pushed Peter back.  
  


“Whoa, whoa, slow down there buddy.”   
  


Peter cleared his throat and tried to clear his thought but it was filled with thoughts of Stiles and he couldn’t escape.   
  


Deaton cleared his throat and thankfully moved slightly between Stiles and Peter.  
  


“Stiles, you do remember what happened right?”

“Yes.”  
  


Peter just kept staring at Stiles, trying to keep his wolf under control from jumping Stiles right there.  
  


“Alright, well then, we have a lot to go over.”  
  


“Good thing I got something to eat then.” Stiles waved the bag of fries in front of Peter’s face and smiled when Peter slapped his hand away.  
  


“Good,” Peter ground out, “Then let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> message me [here](http://thecompanyofheroes.co.vu/dear%20babe#_=_)! also, it's where updates, new gifsets, etc. will be posted! thank you! :)


	3. There's Nothing Wrong With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! Life is messy and gets in the way! 
> 
> So, to make up for the wait, have a super long chapter full of some development! :D
> 
> I really am going to try and make regular updates! I promise! 
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> Y'all are so amazing and really make writing this story worthwhile! Thank you!
> 
> As always, please leave any and all comment, concerns, things you want to see, etc.
> 
> Love, peace, and cozy fleece,
> 
> Faye.

Stiles groaned as his back hit the forest ground for fifth time in the past two minutes.

 

“Wrong,” Peter sighed in both an indifferent and exasperated way.

 

Stiles kept his eyes closed and merely tried to breath through his aching muscles repairing themselves.

 

“Up, Stiles. Now.”

 

“No, Peter. _No._ ”

 

Peter growled and threw Stiles up against the nearest tree.

 

The Alpha bared his teeth and spit out, “Your best friend and my nephew _still_ remain unconscious while we wait for another attack. You haven’t even experienced your first shift yet, I don’t think _now_ is the time to be lazy.”

 

Stiles’ eyes shifted in anger and his claws pierced Peter’s shirt and skin, but the older man looked unaffected.

 

In the blink of an eye, Peter was slammed into a cement column of his house behind him. Stiles blinked and panted from the sudden use of magic.

 

He didn’t dare look up at Peter or to make sure the Alpha was okay until he calmed down.

 

He felt more than heard Peter walk back into his space. He smelled concern and, maybe, a little bit of arousal from the older man, but Stiles didn’t fully trust his understanding of scents around other werewolves yet. Stiles was still panting and felt out of control.

 

Peter gently placed his hands at the base of Stiles’ neck, feeling the blood pulsing against his fingers.

 

“Breathe Stiles. Just breathe.”

 

A few moments later, Stiles’ felt his claws retract and his breathing regulate.

 

“Good. That was very good, Stiles.”

 

Stiles scoffed, a light puff of breath that warm Peter’s skin.

 

“You call being thrown against a brick wall, good?”

Peter smiled, “Not for me, but with a bit more focus and power, you could really hurt someone. That’s good, _very_ good, for only two weeks worth of practice.”

 

Stiles smiled at the praise, whether it was because he was accepting it from Peter or his wolf accepting it from his Alpha, he didn’t care.

 

Peter’s own smile widened before dropping completely as he heard a car pulling up the driveway.

 

“Katniss is here.”

 

Stiles’ eyes widen and then he burst into boisterous laughter at Peter’s joke.

 

Peter felt proud that he could make Stiles laugh like that and found himself loving the sound.

 

Stiles slapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder as he wiped tears from his eyes.

 

“Holy shit Peter, thank you. I needed that.”

 

Peter grabbed Stiles’ hand where it branded him through his shirt and rather than move it, he merely rubbed his thumb against it softly. Stiles’ laughter stopped short and he stared into Peter’s eyes and, not for the first time, felt something charge between them. And, not for the first time, it was, for Stiles, thankfully broken by an interruption.

 

Parrish cleared his throat before speaking, “Stiles, your dad needs to see you.”

 

Stiles sighed before he nodded and turned to Peter.

 

“I’ve been avoiding this, so I’m not sure how long it will take,” Stiles shifted his feet nervously and Peter smelled the strong acidity of anxiety, “In any case, I’ll let you know if I’m not coming back tonight.”

 

“What’s going on Stiles?” Peter asked lowly, looking between his beta and the deputy.

 

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Parrish sighed in a mix of impatience and worry.

 

“I know Parrish! I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“ _Stiles._ ” Peter flashed his eyes in an attempt of a command.

 

Stiles smiled, “It’s funny that you think that’d work on me.”

 

As Peter rolled his eyes, Stiles leaned in close and whispered, “I’m part Spark, remember?”

 

Peter shivered slightly at the warm breath and nearly missed the charged light swirling in Stiles’ eyes.

 

“I remember,” Peter ground out, “Just be careful and stay in touch or—.”

  
“Or you’ll hunt me down, I know.”

 

Parrish honked the horn in his car.

 

“I got it!” Stiles shouted, “Bye Peter.”

 

Peter nodded at the beta’s departure and smiled when he heard Stiles speak to Parrish.

 

“Alright Katniss, let’s go.” 

* * *

 

Stiles spent the entire ride to the station in contemplative silence. He knew his dad knew something was different about him, even if he couldn’t pinpoint it. Most parents, even those that aren’t cops, would notice a change like this. So, this morning, before heading to Peter’s for training, Stiles stuck a note in his dad’s lunch. He’s dreaded this moment and what his father’s going to think or do, but Stiles can’t stand him not knowing anymore, and if things are as bad as Peter claims they are, then he can’t die without his father knowing.

 

“Stiles?” Parrish asked for the fourth time and snapped his fingers in front of the younger man.

 

“Hmm? Yeah, okay.” Stiles mumbled as he reached for the door handle, only just noticing they were at the station.

 

“Are you alright? You seem, uh, on edge. More so than usual.”

 

Parrish attempted a comforting smile, but his concern morphed it into an awkward grimace.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks Jordan.” Stiles smiled at the shocked look at Parrish’s reaction at being called by his first name and exited the car.

 

The walk to his dad’s office, though he’s walked the hallways more times than he can remember, feels completely different. His senses are heightened and more intense than he can ever recall feeling and he isn’t sure which part is him, werewolf, or spark.

 

He takes a deep breath before turning right and entering the office.

 

“Hey Stiles, what’s this about?” His dad asks immediately while waving the small orange note around.

 

Stiles closes his eyes and the door behind him before sitting across from his dad.

 

“Okay, so remember a few weeks ago I told you that the pack got into some trouble and Derek and Scott were hurt?”

 

“Yes, Melissa hasn’t been the same, though Deaton ensures her than Scott is healing.”

 

“Right,” Stiles cleared his throat, “So that night, they weren’t the only ones hurt.”

 

Stiles looked down, though he could sense his father’s concern as the scent of worry filled the air.

 

“St-.”

 

“Just let me get this all out, _please,_ Dad.”

 

He heard, rather than saw, the responding nod.

 

“So, and I need you to know this was entirely, one hundred percent, my decision and my decision alone.”

 

Stiles stood up and started pacing back and forth, nerves getting to him.

 

“I, uhm, I…I,” Stiles stopped pacing, stopped moving, stopped breathing.

 

“Stiles what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

 

Stiles took another shaky breath and opened his mouth when the office door suddenly opened.

 

Both Stilinski men turned to yell at the intruder, but stopped when they saw who it was.

 

Stiles looked between the two men as the door shut and the silence grew louder.

 

Peter cleared his throat.

 

“I believe what Stiles was trying to tell you was that, after I mentioned its importance for all involved, I gave him the bite.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes as the air around him stilled and everything around him became static.

 

Stiles heard the slide of his dad’s gun being unholstered and aimed at Peter.

 

The sheriff’s anger was palpable and intense in the small room.

 

Peter’s heart rate never changed, even with the gun in his face.

 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you, right now?” The sheriff ground out.

 

“I could give you four, just off the top of my head, Sheriff, but none of them are going to stop you.”

 

Against his will, but true to himself, Stiles felt his eyes roll. Only Peter would taunt someone who is holding a gun to his head.

 

“Dad, it’s okay. I-I, uhm, I asked him to.”

 

The pregnant silence that followed last so long it was bound to give birth at any moment.

  
“ _What? Stiles, why?_ ” The sheriff asked as he lowered, but did not reholster his gun.

 

Stiles looked to Peter for help, but Peter merely gestured for Stiles to continue and take control.

 

Stiles looked back to his dad and after a deep breath, he let out everything that’d been bubbling underneath the surface since he turned.

 

“I was tired of feeling useless, Dad. Do you want to know the real reason Scott and Derek are laying unconscious at Deaton’s? Because of me. Because I couldn’t protect myself well enough. I was tired of watching everyone and I mean _everyone_ I love and care about getting hurt _because_ of me. So, I asked Peter to turn me. And before you point your gun, which is fairly useless against people like him, uhm, people like _us_ , he asked me many times if I was sure. _I_ made the decision Dad. I’d thought about it for a long time, to be honest.”

 

Stiles took a deep breath and laughed at the matching pair of risen eyebrows on the other two men in the room.

  
“Yeah, I did. And before you say anything, it wasn’t because I was jealous or jaded. I wasn’t asking the universe ‘Why Scott? Why not me?’ It was more that I was imagining _really_ being part of the pack, rather than _the_ human of the pack. I was tired of worrying about recovery times for broken bones, or how much blood I could lose before passing out, or how deep a cut needs to be before it needs stitches. I was just tired of…of not being enough. I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you or tell you until now, but I didn’t want you to think that I, uhm, I wasn’t me or that something was wrong with me or that I-I wasn’t your son anymore. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be enough.”

 

The sheriff pulled Stiles towards him and wrapped his arms tightly around his son.

 

“Stiles, you are, you’ve _always_ more than enough. You are the greatest son I could have ever hope for. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

 

Stiles blinked back the tears as he and his father ended the warm embrace.

 

He looked towards the door and, as always, couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him when he noticed the extremely uncomfortable look on Peter’s face.

 

Peter glared and when Stiles’ laughter grew, the Sheriff joined in.

 

Peter sighed and though his face remained passive Stiles noticed the small quirk on the left side of Peter’s mouth.

 

“So, werewolf, huh?”

 

Stiles nodded solemnly at the pensive look his father was giving him.

 

“Well, not entirely,” Peter, the ever helpful Alpha had to mention.

 

Stiles groaned.

 

“What? What does that mean?”

 

Stiles groaned louder.

 

“You might want to sit down, Dad. This is gonna take some time. And you,” Stiles pointed to Peter as his dad sat down.

 

“Go get us three coffees. This is going to take a while.”

 

Peter rose to his full height and glared at Stiles.

 

Stiles returned with a look of barely contained annoyance, exasperation, and a little bit of fondness.

 

Begrudgingly, Peter set off for the station’s coffee.

 

“So, he’s a part of your life now?” The sheriff asked as Stiles settled into the chair across from his dad.

 

“I mean he has been for the past few years, but yeah, I guess. He’s more,” Stiles paused, trying to finds the right word, but finding it difficult, before he settled on, “ _important_ now. He’s helping me with training, shifting, and everything. He’s been great and helpful. It’s weird. Deaton’s, well, he’s been helping me with the other stuff.”

 

The sheriff sighed as his eyes widened.

 

“Okay the werewolf stuff I’ve got down. For once, I’m grateful for Scott going through this. What’s the _other_ stuff?”

 

Peter chose this moment to return with the coffee and for some reason the sight of Peter balancing three cups of coffee in his hands made him smile. After setting the cups on the desk, Peter looked at Stiles and returned the smile.

 

The sheriff cleared his throat and both wolves look to him.

 

“Yeah. Well…apparently I’m also, uhm, I’m a spark.”

 

The sheriff breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Oh thank god! I thought you were going to be part lizard or something like that. Which, Stiles, that would’ve been fine, but this is so much better.”

 

Both Stiles and Peter stared at the sheriff in disbelief and curiosity.

 

The sheriff’s smile widened and he laughed.

 

“If only you could see the look on your faces. Oh man, it’s so refreshing for you guys to be in the dark about something.”

 

“Dad, what’s going on? Are you okay? Oh my god, Peter. I think he’s broken.” Stiles continued into hysterics while Peter sipped the mediocre stationhouse coffee.

 

“I think your father is fine, Stiles. I also think he has something to tell us, err, _you_.”

 

Peter moved to leave.

 

“Stay, Peter. You’ll find out anyway or at least hear it through the door.”

 

Peter settled back into his seat, feeling slightly more comfortable in the sheriff’s presence. Stiles’ warmth and steady, occasionally erratic, heartbeat next to him was comforting and Peter tried to relax.

“Stiles, I heard you out, so can you give me the same courtesy?”

 

Stiles nodded vehemently as he downed half the cup of still too hot coffee. He ignored the burn and Peter’s worried glance to listen to his dad.

 

“Your mother always told me something like this was going to happen.”

 

Silence fell over the room once again and Stiles reached out for Peter’s hand under the desk to ground him. Stiles’ grip was too tight, but the fact that he was reaching for Peter to help him, ground him, made Peter burst with pride and his heartbeat to accelerate.

 

“She always used to say that you were _very_ special or that you were magic. I would agree and Claudia, she always looked at you like she saw something I didn’t. I always wondered what she saw, but I figured it was the bond between a mother and her son. It wasn’t until after,” the Sheriff cleared his throat, “after she died that I found out how wrong I was.”

 

Stiles hadn’t moved a muscle since the Sheriff started and his gripped tightened impossibly on Peter’s hand. Peter rubbed his right hand against their combined grasp and tried to soothe his beta.

 

“In the attic at the house Stiles, in a box marked ‘Garden Tools,’ there’s a black book with white swirls on it. It’s a book that your mother wrote, to you, in the event that this happened. I’ve read it, many times since she passed. Honestly,” he sighed, “I’ve waited a long time for this moment Stiles. She said she didn’t know if or when you’d start showing the signs of being a Spark, but she wanted you to know about it _and her_. Didn’t you ever wonder how I was so quick to accept Scott being a werewolf? To be honest I thought you were going to tell me you were a Spark too, but you didn’t.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to do anything,” he looked between the two across from him, “anything _rash_ when you found out.”

 

There was a long period of silence as the three men took in the information that was new to them.

 

Peter and the Sheriff both looked to Stiles, waiting for him to speak.

 

After another long moment, something shifted in Stiles posture and face, as though he’d finally understood something.

 

“Is that why her tomato plants never died?”

 

The three men laughed and after ordering some dinner and talking through things a little more, decided to call it a night.

* * *

 

 The Sheriff drove away and Peter and Stiles waved goodbye at the car pulled out into the darkness.

 

Stiles turned to Peter after his dad was out of sight.

 

“That was definitely _interesting_.” Peter commented.

 

“It was. Who knew, right? My mom was a Spark. I swear one time she used her powers to knock over this bully’s mom’s brownies at a PTA meeting once.”

 

Peter smiled warmly at Stiles and in the soft amber glow of the streetlight, when Stiles smiled back Peter swore the young Spark shined.

 

That charged feeling was back and Stiles fought hard to ignore it even as he found himself taking a step closer toward his Alpha.

 

“So…I just realized I don’t have a ride home.” Stiles stated quietly.

 

That charged feeling dissipated when Peter’s eyes rolled, followed by his hands rising in the air in exasperation. He turned to head towards his car and unlocked the doors.

 

“How do you even shower without drowning, Stiles? I swear to god.”

 

Stiles laughed and Peter sighed.

 

The two got into the car and after finding a station they both agreed on, Peter sped out of the parking lot.

 

“I forgot you drive like a NASCAR driver. You do know there are lines on the road for a reason, right?”

 

Peter just smiled and pushed on the gas a little more.

 

At a red light, Stiles asked, “Should I tell the rest of the pack? I mean none of them are close enough or conscious enough to yell at me, or _you_ for that matter. Except Isaac, but he won't yell. Or do you think I should wait?”

 

Peter seemed to actually consider the question before he answered, “Well, the hardest person you had to tell is done and over with. So, I don’t see a problem in letting them know. They'll find out soon enough.”

 

The light turned green and Peter drove at a more reasonable speed.

 

“Peter?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How did you know my dad was the hardest person for me to tell?”

 

Peter pulled up outside the Stilinski’s house and put the car in park.

 

The Alpha smiled, “The first one is always the hardest. It’s different being born into this, Stiles, but I’ve been alive…and dead, long enough to know what it’s like for those who are turned. The first person you tell, who doesn’t know, is always the hardest because they’ll, either not believe you or believe you and always be off or different around you, or they’ll accept you. And that risk? It’s the most dangerous to take. To risk losing someone who is important to you? You’d have to be exceptionally brave to take it.”

 

Stiles stared into Peter’s eyes for a second too long before he smiled.

 

“Thank you, Peter.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Everything. Being there today and these past few weeks. Training me and tolerating me. You’ve been…you’ve been amazing and it means a lot to me.”

 

Stiles swore he saw Peter’s cheeks flush, but in the dark cover of night he couldn’t really tell.

 

Peter shrugged and his smile was slightly smug when he said, “I dare do all that may become a man.”

 

“Alright, lead on Macbeth.”

 

Peter’s smile widened when Stiles got the reference.

 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to blush and then he remembered he was sitting outside his house.

 

“Well, I better go, it’s been a long night.”

 

“Until tomorrow, then. Do you want me to pick you up?”

 

Stiles thought about it. He should probably let his dad sleep in. It was a lot to take in that your son was a hybrid or two different supernatural beings and an extra hour of sleep could work wonders.

 

“Yeah that sounds good. I’ll buy breakfast.”

 

Peter smiled softly, “Until then. Goodnight Stiles.”

 

Peter’s voice was full of fondness and it felt as though it echoed in the small confines of the car and wrapped around Stiles. Stiles had to push himself to leave the car before he did something rash and impulsive, like always. Something like kiss Peter. Something he’s thought of only once or twice or twenty times before.

 

Stiles opened the door, but Peter stopped him with a warm hand on his wrist. The warmth of his hand in comparison to the cool burst of air from the open door caused a shiver to course through Stiles’ body.

 

“One more thing.”

 

Stiles waited with bated breath for Peter to continue.

 

“Your father was right.”

 

Stiles looked from Peter’s eyes to his lips, he _needed_ to get out of this damn car.

 

“About?” He whispered.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Stiles. And you are good enough, you _always_ have been.”

 

Stiles leaned closer, consequences be damned and just as he was about to push past the final few inches between them, his phone rang with the loud _Spice Girls_ ringtone he’d set for Isaac.

 

“Goddamn it,” he muttered as he moved to answer the phone.

 

Stiles thought he saw Peter sigh in disappointment, like he’d been _waiting_ for Stiles to push through that boundary.

 

“Yes Isaac, what the hell is it? Wait, what? Okay, we’re on our way.”

 

Peter, who didn’t need to have heightened hearing to listen to their conversation, had already put the car in drive and was heading toward Deaton’s.

 

Even with the news from Isaac, Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened had Isaac called ten seconds later.

 


	4. I'm Searching For My Right Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! I avoided important coursework for this for y'all! So...be proud? Of me?
> 
> Anyway, there isn't much to say except, I'm really nervous for this chapter because there's a lot at play in it and I kind of feel like the story is moving too fast and I'm not giving enough exposition (but there's still a lot I have planned, this is just the beginning...but still.) Please, please, please let me know of any comments, concerns, things you want to see, etc.
> 
> Enjoy and as always thank you so much for the love and support. I hope you're all enjoying the ride so far. We've still got a long way to go! :D
> 
> \- Faye

“What do you mean he woke up, spoke, and then passed out again?”

 

Isaac was pacing quickly back and forth and Stiles and Peter could hear the racing heartbeat and smell the panic rolling off the beta in strong waves.

 

“I mean exactly that, Stiles! He sat up, said something about sparks, and then laid right back down like nothing happened.”

 

Stiles shared a matching nervous glace with Peter and then looked back to a shaken Isaac and moved to comfort his best friend’s boyfriend. After forcing him into a chair, he took to petting the teenager’s hair softly to calm both the boy and the wolf inside.

 

It’d been six months since Isaac and Scott thought they’d dropped a bomb on the pack. In reality, it had been three months earlier that everyone found out, but with a warning glare from Lydia and Erica, no one said anything, not even Peter. They’d decided not to say a thing until the two were ready. After Jackson, who’d been in New York with Danny, came back to visit and caught the two making out in Scott’s car where they were picking him up, did they decide they were okay with telling everyone.

 

Peter looked at the point of contact between his two favorite betas and was surprised to find he felt no jealousy or anger, just a remarkable amount of fondness and pride. Even before he turned, Stiles was always an amazing caretaker of the pack, but now? He was so much more and being able to see to Stiles’ in action and anchoring a panicking Isaac with a mere touch, it made Peter’s heart pound harder.

 

He tried to calm the betrayal beating in his chest, but Stiles must have noticed because he raised his gaze and something akin to an epiphany flashed in his eyes.

 

“Stiles?” Isaac asked quietly.

 

Stiles tore his gaze from the alpha and looked to his friend.

 

“Yeah, buddy?”

 

Isaac looked hesitantly between Stiles and Peter, “Uh, w-why do you smell like a wolf?”

 

“Oh, yeah, that’s because…I, uhm, I am one?” Stiles stuttered out.

 

In a split second, and as a surprise to all in the room, Isaac had Peter against the wall with a hand around his throat.

 

“ISAAC!” Stiles yelled but the beta didn’t hear him.

 

“What did _you do_?!” Isaac growled, claws reaching out and now biting into Peter’s neck.

 

Stiles immediately grabbed Isaac’s forearms and with Peter’s hands around his they managed to push the beta back.

 

“Stiles, how are you just standing there? What the fuck did _he_ do to you?” Isaac bit out, still glaring at Peter like he may rip out his throat at any second.

 

That thought alone had Stiles stepping between the two. His eyes flashed a stormy blue and with magic sparking through his extended claws, he surrounded and held back Isaac in a tight, but calming wave.

 

Isaac pushed against the bond but with Stiles’ heart and emotions running wild, there was no way for the wolf to break against them until Stiles allowed it.

 

“Isaac, _listen_ , okay? I asked him to. It was _my_ decision. He didn’t force me into anything or do it against my will. I asked and he delivered.”

 

“What, Stiles, why the hell would you do that? And how are you doing this?”

 

“I’ll explain later when you’ve calmed down. And I don’t have to tell you why, Isaac. What does it matter anymore? I can’t take it back.”

 

Isaac pushed against the bond of Stiles’ magic again, but to no avail.

 

“Of course you can’t! Fuck, what’s _wrong_ with you?”

 

Stiles recoiled at the last question as Peter growled and moved forward. Peter’s strong chest collided with Stiles’ hand when he put it out to stop the Alpha from advancing.

 

“ _Nothing_ is wrong with me, Isaac. I’m fine, I’m better than fine actually. There’s no turning back from this and you have to accept it. Accept me.”

  
Stiles forced Isaac to look into his eyes and waited a long moment until the beta calmed down a bit.

 

“Do you understand?”

 

Isaac nodded and wriggled in the hold Stiles’ magic had on him.

 

“Do _not_ harm Peter again, okay? I’m not going to repeat myself. This is _o_ ver _,_ now!”

 

Stiles didn’t break eye contact with Isaac, willing the beta to control his rage. Something finally gave in Isaac and he sighed and sagged against the restraint.

 

“Okay, I understand, Stiles. I do. I’m sorry, man. I’m not in the best state right now. But I understand,” Isaac nodded seriously, “ _Really,_ I do.”

 

Stiles nodded back and smiled as he released the hold his magic had on the beta.

 

“It’s okay Isaac. I know.” Stiles ruffled the beta’s hair before he pushed him away lightly and turned to Peter.

 

“You good?” He asked.

 

Peter looked between the two and nodded.

 

The door swung open with a burst of wind and in walked Deaton, punctual as ever.

 

He saw all three wolves turn and stare and, not for the first time since this all started, felt awkward in their presence.

 

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything in _my_ office.”

 

Peter smiled and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

 

“Is that sarcasm I’m hearing from you, Doc?”

 

Isaac laughed and moved back to his, still, unconscious boyfriend in the back room.

 

“I gotta get some air.” Stiles mumbled before walking out the door.

 

Isaac stood to go after him, but Peter held out a hand before going himself.

 

He walked into the cold night air and shut the front door behind him. He walked until he found Stiles on the ground near the side of the building, shivering and holding his knees to his chest.

 

Stiles held a hand up and muttered a “Don’t” into his chest.

 

Peter didn’t say a word and sat down on the cold concrete as he waited for Stiles to be ready to talk. Whether from the intensity of the past few minutes or the near _something_ that almost happened in the car or from some other twist of fate that kept bringing them together, Peter realized in that moment that no matter how long it took, he would always wait for Stiles.

 

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Stiles asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Peter cleared his throat after he found it suddenly tight and dry.

 

“Like what?” He rasped out.

 

“Like I’m something worth seeing.” Stiles responded calmly.

 

Peter flinched at the lack of emotion in Stiles’ voice.

 

“Is that what you really think? That’s you’re worthless?”

 

Stiles shrugged half-heartedly, “You heard Isaac. I can’t even be a regular werewolf and _fuck_ , what kind of shitstorm has my life become that that is even a problem for me?”

 

“That’s not what he meant and you know that Stiles.”

 

Stiles ignored him in favor of continue his self-deprecating rant.

 

“And for that matter, how and why do I have to be two things? I’m sparking fucking magic out from werewolf claws, Peter! I’m an entirely new level of fucked up, okay? One second I smell emotions from strangers and the next I’m moving tree branches out of way while I run through the woods. I can’t find a balance of this and I feel like I’m four different people. I’m searching for my right mind and I keep searching and can’t seem to find it. I feel like I’m losing my mind…again.”

 

Stiles collapsed into himself and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes and pushed hard until he saw spots and the saltwater that had gathered soaked into his palms. He held them there until he felt Peter’s warm fingers grab his and pull them down.

 

“ _Stiles_. I meant what I said earlier. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. Yes, you are part werewolf and part spark, but you’re also part human. You’ve always been multifaceted, even if you didn’t know it. Yes, you are ‘sparking fucking magic from werewolf claws’ as you so eloquently put it, but you’re also anchoring a panicking and enraged beta in a matter of minutes. _I_ can’t even do that Stiles and I’m the Alpha. You are inimitable and unprecedented, and to be honest, even before you turned, I never saw you any other way. You’re irreplaceable and you’re very important to us Stiles. _All_ of us.”

 

Stiles, for the first time, at least around Peter, was speechless. That was the most honest and genuine thing he’d ever heard from Peter and it was about _him_. No one else but him and it was then that Stiles realized he might just be falling in love, if he wasn’t already, with Peter.

 

“Thank you, Peter.”

 

“For what? Telling you what you already knew?”

 

“No, I didn’t…I mean I…”

 

Peter got up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his pants while Stiles mumbled.

 

“Yeah, well, thank me when this is all over.”

 

Peter held out a hand for Stiles who took it readily as a spark of electricity literally flew between them where they connected.

 

Not for the first time, Stiles cursed his powers and Peter, because the wolf had a smug and satisfied smile on his face.

 

Stiles pulled his hand back quickly and shoved both of them into the pockets of his red hoodie.

 

He heard Peter humming a familiar song behind him and when he realized the melody, he raised a middle finger in the air towards the Alpha before they entered the office again.

 

* * *

 

Three days later and Stiles and Peter are no closer to any answers.

 

_Extinguish the Spark. Extinguish the Spark. Extinguish the Spark._

The words rang in Peter’s head over and over again since Isaac had first told them what Scott said in the split moment of consciousness.

 

They’ve barely slept, running on coffee and fumes, and both were close to snapping.

 

As it so happens, snapping is what caused Peter to snap.

 

Stiles, who was sprawled haphazardly on Peter’s black leather couch, was snapping sparks of electricity from his fingers while he chewed and sucked on the end of pen and reading an old book of prophecies.

 

The silently powerful and slightly sensual scene was too much for Peter to handle in that moment and in a split second he had Stiles pushed against the bookshelf.

 

“What the hell, Peter? That book is like five hundred years old!” Stiles shouted, heartbeat slightly erratic but for all other intents and purposes, looking more annoyed than anything.

 

“Can you stop. Fucking. Snapping.” Peter bit out before he forced himself back.

 

Stiles stood there for a moment before saying, “We need a break.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes and though his back was to Stiles, he knew the Spark knew he’d rolled them.

 

“No, we _need_ to figure this out.”

 

Stiles sighed, “Look we’ve been working nonstop for three days. We need to relax and have some fun. _Then_ we can go back and try to figure out who’s trying to kill me now.”

 

Peter bit back a growl of anger and protection before sighing and asking, “What’d you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

Peter groaned for the fourth time since they’d left the house and Stiles just laughed.

 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

 

Stiles smiled brighter and finished tying the laces on the ridiculous shoes.

 

“Don’t be so grumpy. This is gonna be fun, I promise!”

 

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?”

 

“I’m not!”

 

Peter glared.

 

Stiles glared right back.

 

“Honest, listen to my heartbeat when I say that _you_ , Peter Hale, are going to have fun with me tonight.”

 

Peter stared at Stiles until a moment after acceptable before turning on his most charming smile.

 

“Alright, Stiles.”

 

Stiles stood triumphant before his Alpha who stood up to his full height.

 

Stiles went to turn around and start the game, but Peter grabbed his arm.

 

“But next time, I pick the place.” Peter commanded sultrily and with a bit of a growl into Stiles’ ear resulting in a full body shiver.

 

Stiles nodded vigorously before inwardly cursing himself.

 

_FUCK!_

Only a Stilinski could inadvertently plan a date, or date-like-type-thing, with someone they were secretly in love with.

 

“Oh, and I go first.” Peter smiled, something devious in the quirk of his lips.

 

Stiles regained his senses enough to reply with, “Cheaters always do.”

 

Two pizzas, a pint of soda, and a game and a three-quarters later, the two wolves were ready to collapse.

 

Stiles was unintentionally – maybe a little intentionally – leaning heavily against Peter in the small corner booth.

 

“Perhaps we should call it a night, Stiles?”

 

Stiles yawned and looked at his watch and it took a few second longer to realize it was nearing midnight.

 

“Yeah, I should probably make sure my dad isn’t buried among fast food wrappers.”

 

Stiles stood and stretched and caught Peter’s rather lewd stare at the skin that was presented before his eyes. Stiles laughed inwardly at the fact that a few months ago, the gaze might have made him uncomfortable, but now? He _craved_ it.

 

Peter slid out of the booth and into Stiles’ space for the nth time that night. Stiles would say bowling was a regretful choice due to the amount of close contact with the other player, but he’d be lying.

 

“I assure you he is not. I took the liberty of sending healthy, but hearty meals to the station while we’ve been working.”

 

Stiles stared in shock.

 

“Y-you sent _my dad_ food? _Healthy_ food?” Stiles asked, scandalized.

 

Peter nodded.

 

“And he ate it?”

 

Peter looked confused and Stiles would have found it cute had he not been in shock.

 

“Yes, if fact, he sent me a text asking about one of the recipes.”

 

Stiles pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

 

Not only was someone apparently going to ‘extinguish’ him and not only did he just go on a kind of date with Peter Hale, who he may or may not be totally in love with, but said man got his father to eat and like a healthy meal.

 

Stiles’ brain must have short-circuited, because that was the only excuse for the next words that left his mouth.

 

“Marry me.”

 

Peter looked shocked for a moment, like he’d actually been about to think about his answer, before his casual, smug smile returned.

 

“One step at a time, Red.”

 

Stiles stood thinking about the implication of that sentence when he noticed Peter suddenly blocking him from a revoltingly acrid smelling person in front of him.

 

“Oh my god, someone needs to shower.”

 

He felt Peter’s chest compress with barely held laugher before he noticed a tall, slightly attractive man standing in front of Peter.

 

“You ought to keep a lid on that one, Peter. Could get him into trouble some day.”

 

Tension coiled in Peter and Stiles felt it tighten in Peter’s back.

 

“Trust me, he’s only really in trouble when he’s not talking.”

 

For some reason, unknown to either man, Stiles felt the need to anchor himself and in that moment, for the first time, he reached out for Peter to anchor him. He grabbed on tight to the black t-shirt the Alpha was wearing, pinky finger just grazing the hot skin underneath, causing a shiver to run through both of them.

 

The man across from them noticed the change as Stiles emerged by Peter’s side, hand still gripping the shirt and now more skin underneath.

 

“Oh, I must apologize. I didn’t realize I was interrupting something.”

 

To Stiles’ disappointment, Peter responded with, “You’re not. What is it you want Darian? I believe I made my point clear last time we… _spoke_.”

 

“Oh you did, but you see I’ve never been good with rules, Peter. I’m sure you remember that from when we were, hmm… _together_.” Darian said coolly with a pointed look at Stiles.

 

Stiles dropped his hand from Peter’s side at the implication of Peter and his shared past. In any other moment, Peter would have grabbed Stiles’ hand and put it back, daring Stiles to try and move it, but now was not the time nor place. They needed to get out of there.

 

“Cool Darian, now that everyone knows we used to fuck around, until you threw a temper tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted, can you get to the point and tell why the fuck you’re here?

 

Darian stilled now, and Stiles could smell the anger even over the choking stench of dead flesh from the creature. Stiles looked to his left and noticed that the bowling alley had nearly cleared out and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

 

“That’s easy, Peter. I’m here for two things.”

 

Stiles sensed something behind him and slowly turned his head to see nothing there. He didn’t like this.

 

“You know I hate that cryptic bullshit, Darian.”

 

He didn’t know how to warn Peter and a second later he knew it was too late.

 

“I’m here for the Alpha,” Darian gestured to Peter and then turned to Stiles, “and the Spark.”

 

In a split second, Stiles was crashing hard onto the other end of the lanes across the room after Peter pushed him out of the way of two large men who suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

 

Peter growled out, “STILES RUN!” before he was slammed hard into the brick wall by the two.

 

It took Stiles half a second to send a strong stream of fire hurtling towards the men.

 

The fire caught on the fabric of both men and Stiles smiled something dark, feral, and pleased when heard a loud, resounding growl from Peter as he snapped one, and then the other’s neck.

 

He felt a burning in his neck but fought past the sensation to help Peter who was rushing towards him. He made it halfway there when suddenly his world went blurry and his face slammed hard into the laminated wood of the bowling alley.

 

He last thought was that he’d managed to save Peter.

 

He blacked out with a smile on his face.


	5. Oh, You Should've Seen It, They Were Resting On The Restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it's been so long.  
> a best friend of mine passed, and i had that and finals and life.  
> it sucks.  
> i'm sorry this update is so short, but the next chapter is nearly done and i have the idea for the next working out in my mind.  
> i love you all and thank you so much for all of your kind words, support, and love.  
> thank you for sticking with me and this story.  
> this means so much to me.
> 
> p.s. my russian is limited to a semester course and a friend of mine. let me know if there's a mistake.
> 
> love, peace, and chicken grease,  
> faye.

Peter blinked his heavy eyelids and tried to adjust to the bright lights hanging over his head.

 

When his eyes settled he looked and listened around the room for anything, _anyone._

 

When he heard footsteps, but no heartbeat and when he smelled nothing but heard a chair move, he knew _what_ he was dealing with.

 

“Ah, about time Pyotr, I was beginning to think you would not wake from your slumber.” A smooth, heavily accented voice spoke.

 

_Fuck. I need to kill my old friends._

“Ah, Mikhail, to what do I owe the pleasure? I take it you and Darian have settled your little rivalry.”

 

Peter sighed.

 

_I_ really _need to kill my old friends._

* * *

 

Stiles woke up to a flurry of slaps across his face and familiar red hair shocking his eyes.

 

“L-Lydia?”

 

“Yeah Stiles it’s me. Our getaway care is waiting for us. We have to go.”

 

“But, Peter.”

 

“What about him?” Lydia asked.

 

Stiles stood up and leaned on Lydia for a steadying moment.

 

“He’s in here somewhere Lydia and I am _not_ leaving without him.”

 

Lydia sighed, “Hope your magic is as powerful as I’ve been told.”

 

Stiles looked confused and Lydia answered the unvoiced question.

 

“Parrish.”

 

Stiles threw a large electric flare towards the door to their right and it blew open.

 

He smiled smugly, but Lydia rolled her eyes.

 

“Well, good to know they work, but good job giving away our position Stiles.”

 

Lydia literally pushed up her sleeves and the two started running down the hall. 

* * *

 

 Mikhail circled the room once, twice, before responding.

“Yes, Darian has proved himself very useful.”

 

Peter looked for the skinwalker but neither saw or smelled him.

 

“Where is the ole skin sack? I’d like to thank him for bringing a leech like you back into my life.”

 

Mikhail smiled something angry, but calm. He’d never admit it, but that smile always unsettled Peter.

 

“I’m afraid there was a little mishap with our dear friend. He seems to have been so distraught that he merely _lost his head._ ”

 

Mikhail emphasized the last part by placing the still bleeding head on the table in front of Peter.

 

It took every ounce of Peter’s restraint and training to not show any reaction towards the vampire’s sick antics.

 

He looked to the decapitated head of the monster, he once trusted, with indifference and then looked to the completely attached head on the monster, he’s never trusted, with absolute contempt.

 

“Really, Mikhail? A bit over the top, don’t you think?”

 

The other man smiled that same creepy smile.

 

“Ah Pyotr, I’ve had many years to cultivate my dramatics. I do so love them, любимый.”

 

Peter ignored the term of endearment and the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 

He sighed in annoyance, “I’m tired, what the hell do you want Mikhail? I no longer do the jobs I used to.”

 

Peter smelled something odd for the setting they were in, a mix of rain and honeysuckle, and bit back a smile.

* * *

 Stiles knew what they were facing before he set them on fire.

 

No scent, no heartbeat, no real sound as they moved. Vampires. He also knew how to dispose of them. Fire or decapitation. He was good with the former of the two.

 

He sent a final flare of flames onto a convulsing body below his feet.

 

“You’re a little _too_ good with that Stiles. Glad you’re on our side.”

 

Stiles smiled and ruffled Lydia’s hair before they continued their search for Peter.

 

They picked up slight noises from the far east end of the hallway to their right.

 

He jerked his head toward the area and Lydia nodded in assent.

* * *

The vampire moved closer, “Pyotr, I merely wished to reconnect with you, play with you a bit, like the good days. Your little pack doesn’t seem to have faired well though. They don’t _play_ as well as you do. The mercenary wolves I sent to them told me it was the easiest money they ever made.”

 

Peter, once again forced himself to remain calm, if Mikhail had Stiles then Peter needed to keep the upper hand. Mikhail was looking to get a reaction from him and as long as he didn’t get one, the vampire would keep prodding for one, revealing more about his intentions. Peter had always loved an easy mark.

 

Peter’s ear picked up familiar screeching down the hall, he had never heard a banshee’s scream sound so beautiful. Luckily, Mikhail didn’t seem to notice, probably too absorbed in the sound of his own voice, so Peter continued to bide his time.

 

“So my betas that won’t wake up? Let me guess, your blood was given to them somehow?” Peter smiled, twisted but believable, as he began to laugh, “Oh _please_ tell me it was not the old tip of the claw thing?”

 

Peter laughed harder at the vampire’s nonverbal confirmation, “Jesus Christ Mikhail! Talk about old and set in your ways.”

 

The vampire looked insulted, but continued, trying to force Peter’s hand.

 

“Yes, well you cannot teach an old _dog_ new tricks. Seems we’ve always been alike in that aspect. You always wanted a pack, a _family,_ and I always find a way to destroy it. _Always._ ”

 

Peter’s smiled dropped and he looked at the vampire in annoyed confusion.

 

“What is that supposed to mean, Mickey?”

 

Peter swallowed around the blind fury that was building in him.

 

“Oh, dear Pyotr, did Darian not inform you?”

 

“About?” Peter bit out the question.

 

“About your little любимец all those years ago.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened against his will, “You didn’t.”

 

“Oh I did. Ripped his heart straight from his little fucking chest.”

 

Peter snapped.

 

In an instant he had broken through his chains and slammed Mikhail straight through the brick wall on the side of them.

 

He pinned the vampire to the ground.

 

He heard running footsteps round the corner – knew who they were before they saw him.

 

“Peter!” Lydia shouted.

 

Peter heard Stiles’ heartbeat, unmistakable, among the blood roaring in his ears.

 

Mikhail spoke up, calmly, “You would not dare show them your true nature. The assassin. The ruthless, cold killer, you truly are.”

 

Peter leaned in closed to Mikhail’s ear, “Once again, Мудак, you underestimate me.”

 

Peter’s claws were already out, itching to do some damage.

 

Peter looked to Stiles and later he would contemplate the look of both satisfaction and lust as Peter’s hand penetrated Mikhail’s chest.

 

He pulls out a heart.

 

The next half-minute is a series of unprecedented events.

 

Peter looks up to Stiles, worried that he’s ruined everything.

 

Stiles smiles darkly as his heartbeat accelerates.

 

One of Mikhail’s followers runs down the hall with an axe.

 

Before anyone can react, a hatchet lands deep into Peter’s neck.

 

Peter falls.

 

Stiles kills.

 

Lydia screams.


	6. I Woke Up I Was Headless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! again y'all's support and love has made me feel so incredible and happy. thank you so much! this is all for you and i just hope you are enjoying it. thank you! :)
> 
> i hope you like this chapter! it's a little different, but i love it.
> 
> love, peace, and chicken grease,   
> faye

Stiles had never felt such blind rage in his life.

 

It was still pumping through he veins.

 

Still.

 

After he’d…

 

After he’d used his magic to rip Mikhail’s follower apart.

 

Had Stiles had time or the capacity to think on what happened then he would have wondered about his immediate action and following sick satisfaction in the death. The death at his hands.

 

His hands…which had glowed with furious tendrils of black and red before flaring out with immense force blowing through the follower’s body and protecting Peter’s.

 

Yeah, that rage is still coursing through Stiles’ body with every breath he takes.

 

It’s still there when Deaton comes through the doors and Stiles first notices his hands are trembling with the effort of using his magic to keep Peter stabilized.

 

It’s still there when Deaton assures him that it’s okay to let go and he falls into Isaac and Erica from exhaustion.

 

It’s still there when the drag him away from Peter’s body, unware that he’s screaming, fighting, and crying to stay.

 

It’s still there when passes out from exhaustion in the back of Lydia’s car.

 

When he dreams, he dreams of blood and moonlight, of lavender and fire, of himself and Peter.

 

He does not dream of death, but of love.

* * *

 

The last time Peter woke up in a hospital, he was in more pain than he could have ever thought possible, his entire world was pain, anguish, and anger.

 

Now, he feels something fresh and new around his neck, like his head is floating, separate from his body. He feels clean and dirty, light and heavy, grounded and weightless, sane and headless.

 

But above that, above everything running through his mind, he feels –he longs – to know Stiles is alive.

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out and he can barely move, but he’s alive.

 

He doesn’t keep his eyes open for long before succumbing to the dark once again and he hopes – prays – more than anything that Stiles is okay.

 

Stiles is not okay.

 

He knows, the pack knows, Melissa knows, his dad knows. Everyone knows. But worst of all, no one knows how to fix him.

 

Peter is his anchor and without him there, Stiles is lost. He tried to emulate Melissa’s “Be your own anchor,” mantra, but honestly, with everything so knew and the hope of Peter’s return rather than his immediate loss, Stiles couldn’t focus on anything other than his Alpha’s return.

 

It’s been two weeks and he’s basically moved into the hospital he’s there so much.

 

After they’d gotten Peter stabilized at the hospital, Stiles hovering over Deaton the entire time, was he only able to breathe slightly easier. He and Deaton discussed the events and everything he and Lydia had heard. With the knowledge of the cause of Derek and Scott’s unconsciousness, they were able to create an antidote. Stiles had never seen Isaac smile so bright, like his entire world was nothing but light and love. He longed for a feeling like that.

 

When Scott and Derek found out, Stiles was surprised to find their immediate acceptance. He thinks Isaac, Lydia, and Erica had something to with it, but he didn’t ask. Scott hugged him tightly and Derek ruffled his hair. Stiles wished he could have _really_ been there and enjoyed the reunion but his mind was on only one thing. One person. Peter.

 

Later, Deaton told him that because of Stiles, Peter was alive, but that was as much as he knew about the wolf’s recovery. He didn’t know when or if Peter would wake, what he would remember, or how he would be. Deaton warned Stiles that he could very well return to his previous mental state the last time he was in a hospital.

 

Stiles told Deaton that he didn’t care _which_ Peter he got back, so long as he came back.

 

Stiles sighed, coming back to the here and now, and grabbed Peter’s hand.

 

He began to speak to the unconscious man, remembering that he heard somewhere at some time that talking to coma patients can help them, “I had a dream the other night.”

 

No reaction, just the steady beeping of the machines attached to him– unnecessary, really – and Peter’s steady breathing.

 

“Yeah, our, uhm, _the_ whole pack was there, we were all celebrating something at the house. You know that table you were working on before all this? It was complete and it was beautiful. The trees were covered in lights; it was nearing sunset. We were all gathered at the table for dinner. One big, _happy_ pack.”

 

Stiles blinked back tears of longing for better days and continued, “Erica and Boyd had just gotten married. Allison finally came back from France and her and Derek worked out their relationship. Chris wasn’t too happy, but he eventually came around once he saw how happy she was and how nervous Derek was. Danny and Jackson just moved back to town to settle down and asked for your help to find a house. Lydia and Parrish were expecting and Lydia was talking to me about her third Masters degree. Scott and Isaac were as much in love as they’ve always been, engaged actually. Scott asked me to be his best man and Isaac asked you to be his. Melissa and my dad were happy together.”

 

He looked at Peter again, squeezing his hand tight before releasing, “Then there’s you. And me.”

 

He laughed, “It must’ve been later because the sun was down, the lights were up, and you and I were the only ones left at the table. I should have been surprised, but I was just relieved that you and I…we were together, whole, and happy. I’ve never felt so complete in my life than at that moment in that dream.”

 

Stiles blinked away the final tears and turned to look fully at Peter.

 

He leaned in close and gently placed a kiss on Peter’s cheek before whispering in his ear with a sad smile, “Make my dream come true, Peter. _Please_ , just…wake up.”

* * *

 

That night, Stiles woke up covered in sweat with his wolf clawing underneath his skin, forcing it’s way out.

 

He jumped from his open window and into the moonlight, then rushed into the forest before he shifted in the middle of Mrs. Landry’s azaleas.

 

His ran, full-speed towards an equally foreign and familiar scent. It was a wolf, but there was something else among the scent. Something intoxicating and dangerous.

 

The greater the scent, the faster he ran.

 

He eventually reached a clearing, panting with the effort of the run as well as the sudden shift.

 

The moonlight was shining bright, not entirely full, but close.

 

Stiles looked left and right, looking for some sign or source of another wolf.

 

After he caught his breath and when he didn’t notice anything but calm trees and cool air, he shifted back.

 

He was further calming down, and figuring his way back home without flashing the whole neighborhood, when he heard a branch snap roughly behind him.

 

He turned around quickly and what he saw made his body freeze and his heart race.

 

Peter was standing before him, not a shred of clothing anywhere on his powerful body, illuminated and glowing from the moonlight surrounding him.

 

Stiles’ mouth was dry and his throat was tight when he whispered, “Peter?”

 

The man just turned his head towards Stiles’ voice and smiled.

 

Stiles stared, heart racing, breath quickening. 

 

“Hey Red, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”


	7. Motherfucker, I'll Be Back From The Dead Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY LOVELIES! 
> 
> Words cannot even begin to describe how sorry I am for taking so long to post. There were a lot of things I needed to sort out before I could even think about writing anything. That being said, I really do try to write as promptly as I can. I now have my muse back and am hoping to write a lot over this little break I have right now. I love you all and your kindness and support has meant more to me than you know. I hope you're still around and ready to get all Steter-y.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Not edited or proofread because I, too, like to live dangerously.  
> P.P.S. Next chapter will earn us our explict rating. ;)
> 
> Love, peace, and happy holidays, 
> 
> Faye

Stiles couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

 

His eyes were shut tight since the moment his recognized the figure.

 

He was dreaming. Yup, this was a dream, albeit a weird but good one.

 

When Stiles does opens his eyes, he still can’t believe what he’s seeing.

 

In front of him, proud and stark against the bright moonlight, stood Peter.

 

His breath catches and his heart stops.

 

Peter smiles, but he’s been smiling since Stiles caught up to him, and it makes the brunette’s hairs stand on end.

 

“W-wha? H-h-ow? W-h-en?” Stiles articulates fluidly.

 

“I’m not even sure any of those constitute as actual words, Stiles.”

 

If Stiles weren’t in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, after weeks of being endlessly distraught, he’d have responded with a sharp quip immediately.

  
As it happened, Stile’s merely crashed to the cold, wet forest floor when he realized he _wasn’t_ dreaming and that Peter was real, was alive, was _here_.

 

Peter rushed to Stile’s side and tried to soothe the hyperventilating young wolf.

 

“I-is this real?” Stiles gasped.  
  
A softer smile graced Peter’s face, something peaceful and relieved.

 

“As a bullet to the head,” Peter inhaled near Stiles’ neck, “Well, in my case, I guess it’s as real as an axe to the neck.”

 

Stiles’ shaking hands slowly reach towards Peter’s neck and felt nothing but smooth skin. The moment he registered the steady pulse of Peter’s heartbeat, Stiles fell into Peter’s half-open arms and hugged him tightly.

 

Peter was immediately surrounded by great waves of sorrow, concern, relief, happiness, and longing. Above all that, there was a clear and overwhelming wave of love. Peter had never felt anything like it in his life. And now? To receive it from Stiles…from his mate. It was all he could do but hold on.

 

Stiles felt tears fall from his face and down onto his hands gripping Peter’s shoulders hard. He wanted to question why he was crying but he knew. Regardless of whether or not he acknowledged it, he _knew_ exactly why he was cry. Something inherent in him since the bite, maybe even before, has always kept him drawn and connected to Peter. Despite his, the pack’s, and their many enemies’ attempts to sever that connection, it’s held on. It’s held on strong. Stiles isn’t dumb and he knows Peter isn’t oblivious, but he fears neither of them will have the strength to step over the line and admit what’s been happening. He knows now is the furthest thing away from “the right time,” but now that Peter is okay, alive, and _here,_ Stiles can’t help but think of it as a sign.

 

“Come on, Red, let’s get back to the house. We have a lot to talk about.” Peter suggested softly as he pulled the both of them off the ground.

 

That was the moment Stiles— hyperventilating Stiles, emotionally and physically exhausted Stiles – remembered that Peter was naked and in that moment Stiles committed to memory _every single inch_ of the Alpha.

 

Stiles swallowed heavily and mindlessly followed Peter the mile back towards his home, too many thoughts rushing through his head. If his silence made Peter uneasy, he didn’t notice.

* * *

 

They reach the house in silence and Stiles waits in the living room, mind racing, while Peter gets dressed.

 

While Stiles waits, he thinks. He thinks about every moment he’s spent with Peter, even before the bite. He thinks of every glance, every touch, every word, every scent, every feeling, every single thing that has led him to where he is with Peter. It’s too much. He _feels_ too much.

 

Stiles takes several deep breaths and tries to establish so semblance of coherency to his raging emotions.

 

“You’re going to break that beautiful brain of yours if you keep thinking that hard.” Peter interrupts softly up from the base of the stairs.

 

Stiles heart skips and he wills his entire body to become stoic and calm.

 

Unfortunately, for Stiles, Peter sat on the coffee table in front of him, cutting off any other thoughts besides _PeteralivehereAlphahomeMINE_.

 

At the last screaming thought, Stiles recoiled deeper into the couch and pulled his legs to his chest, attempting to cut off everything.

 

Peter wasn’t going to play along. He’d been waiting for this moment for a _long_ time. He’d been patient, cautious, and careful. He didn’t push, pry, or provoke. He wanted Stiles to come to him all on his own and he did. Peter didn’t think he’d ever been happier than when he bit Stiles. Now? He never imagined that Stiles would want him in a capacity greater than an Alpha. Sure, he’d known that Stiles was attracted to him, he’d been able to smell it since he first laid eyes on him. But there’s a difference between attraction and adoration, between arousal and affection, and now Peter knew Stiles felt it all. He wasn’t going to let Stiles run away from it.

 

“How long?”

 

Peter looked up quickly as Stiles’ question pulled him out of his reverie.

 

He looked into the eye of the man in front of him and saw so many different things flashing through his eyes; fear, longing, sadness, relief, anger, love.

 

“How long what, Stiles?” Peter asked softly, afraid that anything more would have Stiles running.

 

“How long have you known?” Stiles cast his eyes to the ground, he couldn’t look into Peter’s eye for too long because he feared what would be reflected in them.

 

“Known what exactly?” Peter asked, genuinely confused and curious as to what Stiles was asking.

 

Stiles scoffed and remained silent.

 

Peter sighed, long and loud.

 

They waited. Their heartbeats and breathing synced unconsciously.

 

“T-that I…and you…you know. How long have you _known_?” Stiles sighed. He wanted so badly for Peter to either make some sort of passionate declaration or resigned denial. He just didn’t know what he wanted more. If Peter reciprocated the whirlwind of emotions that Stiles only just now realized that he felt for the Alpha, then they’d have to deal with everything that came with it. If Peter denied everything then Stiles could leave and deal with the rejection on his own.

 

Peter smiled warmly. It wasn’t quite the admittance that he was expecting, but it was an opening for Peter to finally be able to say, to admit, everything.

 

“Since the bite. I knew you’d always harbored some attraction, some lust, for me. You were a teenager and I’m, well, me so it wasn’t difficult to _not_ notice.”

 

Peter laughed as Stiles blushed. The Alpha place a hand on Stiles’ knee and left it there. He needed the contact to give him the strength for what came next.

 

“As for the, uhm, the rest of it. I didn’t know for sure until after the bite. I’d suspected and you didn’t exactly make it difficult to gauge your feelings, but there was still some doubt. You’ve always felt _different_ to me Stiles. Everyone in the pack gives off something different, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  
Stiles nodded but he still didn’t look at Peter so the Alpha continued.

 

“Well, with you, there was just something… _more_. Something I’d never felt in all my life. You felt like warm sunlight on a cold winter’s night, like all four seasons at once…it was overwhelming. It was as though I’d been in a state of false completeness until you. Like a part of my life was incomplete but I didn’t even know it was missing until you filled it.”

 

Peter gripped Stiles knee a little harder, willing Stiles to look at him because there’s was only one first-time he was going to admit this and he needed the connection.

 

Stiles was near-shaking when he looked up. He knew where this was going and he wasn’t prepared for Peter to be _alive_ , much less make a declaration of love. He was more unprepared to feel the same way and to feel it so strongly. One look at Peter and he knew he’d cave.

 

But, somehow, the hand on his knee gave him the strength to look directly into Peter’s eyes and stay strong, stay whole, throughout this.

 

Peter smiled when he felt Stiles’ heartbeat calm into the strong, steady beat of which he’d grown fond.

 

“It wasn’t until the bite that I knew who, or _what_ , you truly were to me.”

 

Peter took a deep breath because the next three words were ones he’d never thought he’d be able to say and it scared him.

 

Stiles sensed Peter’s fear and automatically reached for his hand on his knee, holding them together gently, trying to soothe the man in front of him.

 

Peter looked back up and deep into Stiles’ eyes, willing him to understand the gravity of what was happening and how important this was.

 

“You’re my mate.” Peter released a large breath and he felt Stiles’ heart skip several beats.

 

Peter laughed as he set free everything he’d been holding back, “T-that’s what you are, Stiles. You’re my mate. I never expected to find them, let alone in Beacon Hills, but here you are. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”

 

Peter gripped Stiles’ hand tightly, bracing himself for the last part of his impromptu confession.

 

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experience because I’ve never been in love before.”

 

The room stilled at Peter’s final admittance and both men were certain the world stopped turning.

 

It was a long moment before Stiles spoke.

 

“Mate.”

 

He looked to his Alpha. _His_ Alpha.

 

“I’m _your_ mate? And your _mine?_ ” Stiles couldn’t have hidden the shiver that ran down his spine at the statement of “mine,” but he didn’t care. He felt like his wolf was going to rip out of him and he was quickly loosing control.

 

Peter was growing a little uneasy. He’d heard of mate revelations to be intense for all involved –after all you were essentially realizing your soul mate was with you—but Stiles was regularly out of control so for Peter to be uneasy, all hell was about to break loose. He couldn’t wait.

 

“Y-yes Stiles. I’m yours.”

 

Stiles’ wolf growled in response to the declaration and he rolled his shoulders to try and calm down.

 

Peter got onto his knees and gripped both of Stiles’ thighs as he leaned in close to look right into Stiles’ eyes which were alight with a bright green.

 

“I’m yours,” he growled hotly into Stiles’ right ear.

 

He placed his hand on Stiles’ narrow neck and whispered onto soft lips, “and you’re _mine._ ”

 

Peter gently place his lips onto Stiles’ in a chaste, wordless declaration.

 

Stiles couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

 

He eyes were shut tight from the moment Peter’s lips touched his.

 

He was dreaming. Yup, this was a dream, albeit a long but good one.

 

When Stiles does opens his eyes, he still can’t believe what he’s seeing.

 

In front of him, proud and stark against the bright living room light, sat Peter.

 

His breath catches and his heart stops.

 

It’s all real.

 

He hasn’t imagined anything. Peter is _in love_ with _him._

 

Stiles’ wolf has been itching to attack since they got back and the time between his realization of reality and attempt to regain control was too long. His wolf takes over when Stiles remember “ _you’re mine.”_

He climbs into Peter’s lap and pushes the Alpha down onto the coffee table before reconnecting their lips.

 

He doesn’t want chaste and cute. He wants rough and real.

 

He slowly grinds his hips down into Peter’s and relishes in the low, deep growl that comes from below him.

 

Peter grabs Stiles’ hip with one hand and his neck with another and pulls the Spark flush against his body, feeling and connecting every inch of warmth to his own.

 

Nothing has ever felt so right in his life and Peter hangs on for dear life when Stiles’ lips connect to Peter’s overly sensitive neck.

 

Peter’s tongue is halfway down Stiles’ throat when he realizes they’re both shaking from holding back, longing to both continue and move on to the next stage all at once.

 

He pushes Stiles away and has to restrain himself from pulling the Spark back to him when he sees the lovedrunk look on Stiles’ face. He imagines he’s wearing the same one.

 

“While this is lovely, perhaps one of the best experiences of my life, I’d rather not have our first time together to be on our coffee table. My bed is a _much_ more suitable option Stiles.”

 

Stiles smiles and laughs softly, “Considering you spent over four grand on it, it better be.”

 

Peter laughs as well and lifts the both of them off the coffee table.

 

Stiles wrapped his legs tightly around Peter’s waist and though the action should’ve made him groan because of the delicious friction, he just feet comfort. Like warming up by a fire after being in the winter air for too long or a cool breeze on a hot summer’s night. Something new, exciting, but comforting at the same time. If this wasn’t love he was feeling, Stiles didn’t know what it was. He was so caught up in everything that had happened, was happening, and was going to happen, that his thoughts got the better of him. Before he knew it, as he was gently placed on the luxurious bed and looked into the eyes of Peter, his alpha, his _mate_ , he was speaking, three words he’d only ever thought he’d say to one other person.

“I love you.”

 

For the first time, Stiles heard Peter’s heart skip.

 

The smile that followed was forever carved in Stiles’ memory.

 

“I love you too Stiles.”

 

Peter gently placed himself above Stiles and leaned in to whispered into his ear, “Now how about we continue where we left off then, Red?”

 

 


	8. I'll Be Watching From The Center Of The Hollow Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW.  
> So, I'm so very sorry for the very, very long delay. I was finishing up two bachelor's degrees. Working full-time and there was another death in my life. However, all of that is now behind me. I'm working on another bachelor's because I apparently hate having any kind of life.
> 
> That aside, I'm so happy to be back and hoping to write a little more regularly. I know y'all have been waiting so patiently for this chapter and I hope it's worth the wait. It's not as...graphic(???)...as I usually write but it felt so right in what I was trying to get across.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Thank you again for being so kind and supportive and loving. You have no idea how much it means to me, no idea.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Love, peace, and chicken grease,
> 
> Faye.

Stiles was certain he was going to passed out. Either that or kill Peter.

 

It’d been half an hour since they’d made it to the bedroom and Stiles’ shirt is the only piece of clothing on the floor.

 

Yeah, definitely going to kill Peter.

 

Except Peter recently took special attention to a particularly sensitive spot on Stiles’ neck and it’s difficult to kill someone while they’re making you feel so good.

 

Peter laughs against Stiles’ collarbone, the vibration making the Spark gasp.

 

Peter slowly licks his way to way to Stiles’ ear, “I haven’t even _begun_ to make you feel good, Stiles.”

 

Yeah, Stiles was going to kill him.

 

The beta grunted, rolled his hips into Peter’s, and bit out, “Then fucking start Peter!”

 

Peter growled and linked his lips with Stiles’ in the rough possession that Stiles had been craving since they started.

 

Every piece of Peter that was connected with Stiles was on fire, burning with barely contained lust. He was bound to lose control as some point and, with Stiles writhing relentlessly beneath him, gasping and moaning like he was dying of thirst, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later.

 

While trying to reign himself in, Peter was unware that Stiles had managed both to pin Peter down and remove his shirt.

 

Peter’s claws ripped his comforter open as Stiles bit just a little too harshly on Peter’s collarbone.

 

“Fuck S-Stiles,” Peter gasped and open his eyes.

 

Stiles had a mischievous smirk on his face and he ground down hard against Peter’s hips feeling every hard and warm inch against him.

 

He moaned, “I was hoping you would.”

 

A deep, primal growl, shocking both of them, forced its way out of Peter’s throat and he reversed their positions once again, hands flying and nearly ripping Stiles’ jeans and boxers from his body followed by his own.

 

Peter quickly attached his mouth to Stiles’ chest, licking, kissing, biting, leave marks, _his_ marks on his mate’s body.

 

“P-Peter _please…_ more…I need more.” Stiles begged, breathless, and who was Peter to deny such a sweet request?

 

The alpha kissed his way down Stiles’ lithe body, taking in every whimper, gasp, and moan, trying to wring out every last possible pleasure for his mate.

 

Stiles was lost. He was drowning in pleasure and lust and _completeness_. He’d had sex before. Not as often as he’d like, but what he’d experienced was good. But this? With Peter? Was indescribable. He’d never known it could feel like this. He felt as if he was becoming something entirely new. Become a part of Peter and Peter was becoming a part of him. They were both lost in one another and Stiles was loving it.

 

Then Peter’s mouth wrapped around his cock and he couldn’t breathe.

 

Peter heard Stiles inhale but he wasn’t exhaling.

 

“Breathe Stiles.” He whispered.

 

Stiles’ breath rushed out of him in one long release.

 

“Shall I continue?” Peter asked calmly and if Stiles wasn’t so lost in feeling, he would’ve smacked Peter upside his head.

 

Instead, his hand gripped Peter’s hair and pulled him towards his hard length.

 

Peter didn’t start again, so Stiles tighten his grip on the dirty blonde hair and pulled.

 

The alpha groaned but a filthy smile grace his mouth before he returned his warm mouth to Stiles’ dripping cock and sucked, _hard_.

 

“Fuck! Peter,” Stiles groaned, hips lifting from the bed and delving even deeper into Peter’s mouth.

 

He expected Peter to push him back, but instead he kept taking it until his cock hit the back of his alpha’s throat.

 

He held there for a few seconds until his pulled back, too close to the edge for his liking.

 

Peter pulled off and languidly continued stroking Stiles.

 

Stiles heard through his moans that Peter was asking him something. He tried to focus, to listen because he’s sure it was important.

 

“What do you want Stiles? No. What do you _need_?” Peter asked, voice hoarse and Stiles relished in the fact that he did that.

 

There was only one response to Peter’s question.

 

“You. Just you, Peter. _Please_ just fuck me.” He begged. No longer caring how desperate he sounded.

 

“Gladly.” Peter smiled, feral and hungry.

 

He made quick work of grabbing a small bottle beside his bed and handing it to Stiles who looked at him in adorable, lust-filled confusion.

 

“I just have one request.” Peter continued calmly.

 

Stiles swallowed roughly, knowing what Peter was suggesting but hoping he was joking.

 

“I’m not joking Stiles,” his mate said seriously, “I want you to prepare yourself for me.”

 

Stiles chest and cheeks flushed a bright red in nervousness and anticipation.

 

Peter made himself comfortable against the pile of pillows against the headboard.

 

“Take all the time you need, Red. I can wait. Let me know if you need help.” Peter smiled, the smug satisfaction one that always got under Stiles’ skin.

 

If Peter wanted him to prepare himself, then he’d do just that. Peter didn’t know the fantasies that’d plagued him deep in the night when he couldn’t sleep. He probably also didn’t know that sometimes the fantasies were of his alpha. But, what Peter didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, but it’ll probably surprise him to know how often Stiles has done this before.

 

Stiles’ mind cleared and his heartbeat steadied a bit.

 

He slicked his fingers generously and straddled Peter’s thighs, back towards Peter’s chest.

 

If Peter wanted a show, he’d give him one.

 

Stiles started slow, using one finger, slowly.

 

As his finger slid deep, Stiles let out a long breath which turned into a gasp as Peter’s hands gripped his hips tight.

 

Peter’s hands didn’t try to move Stiles but merely held on with a bruising grip. Stiles loved it.

Above all else, Stiles was trying to listen Peter over his own moans.

 

He could hear Peter’s heartbeat, steady but growing more rapid the longer Stiles went on. He felt his arousal against his thighs, hard and hot. He sensed his emotions, burning bright; love, lust, possession, and longing.

 

When Stiles and two more fingers at once with little struggled, he heard what he was yearning for.

 

Peter let out a long moan from deep in his throat and Stiles mimicked it.

 

In a deep, rough voice Peter demanded Stiles stop.

 

“Enough.”

 

Stiles removed his fingers with a small whimper and turned to face Peter.

 

The look he was met with as he turned back left him breathless and heart race.

 

Peter looked absolutely wrecked. His breathing was irregular, not quite panting but struggling. He was biting hard on his bottom lip, making it a dark red. His hair was wild and sticking out. But his eyes, his eyes were wide and filled with something so complex that Stiles couldn’t name.

 

His hand gently grasped Peter’s face and kissed his forehead lightly, then his eyes, cheeks, and finally his lips.

 

He pulled back slightly and whispered what he felt he needed to repeat and Peter needed to hear.

 

“I love you, Peter.”

 

Peter’s eye dilated further and he wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him close.

 

Peter lined himself up with Stiles.

 

Before he slowly pushed in, Peter whispered in Stiles’ ear, “I love you so much, Stiles.”

 

Stiles slid down gradually on Peter’s thick length until he was flush against the alpha’s hip.

 

“S-Stiles…” Peter breathed out.

 

Stiles had no words for the moment they became one so he just kissed Peter roughly, tongue rushing in when Peter gasped.

 

Peter move them so Stiles was beneath him, needing to feel all of their bodies connected, one.

 

Peter linked their hands, holding them above Stiles’ head as he pushed in deep.

 

Their moans mixed together, creating a song that would never leave Peter’s mind.

 

“ _Peter_ , fuck!” Stiles moaned when peter was hitting his prostate relentlessly.

 

When Stiles opened his eyes, he nearly came.

 

Peter’s eyes were glowing red and they struck Stiles to the core and he couldn’t look away.

 

Something was building between them, something more than their climax. It was intangible and the more Stiles tried to understand, the more it slipped away.

 

He looked into Peter’s eye, drowning in them, in every intense pleasure and emotion he was feeling, _they_ were feeling.

 

“I-I’m close Peter, please.”

 

Stiles was burning up and he saw green and purple sparks snapping from his fingers, but was too lost in his pleasure to do anything about it.

 

Peter doubled his efforts, fucking into Stiles as fast and hard as he could, both racing toward their quickly approaching ends.

 

“Stiles, come. Come for me. Come for your _mate_.” Peter growled out, too close to release to speak clearly.

 

Stiles’ vision went white, nearly blinding him, before his vision went out entirely.

 

When he came to, Peter was staring at him in wonder and concern.

 

When Stiles met his eyes, Peter smiled and let out a small breath.

 

Stiles smiled in return, “Hey there.”

 

He breathed in deeply and was met with a strong smell of honeysuckle and jasmine.

 

Peter looked over and Stiles followed his gaze and his eyes widen when he saw the room filled with scatterings of honeysuckle and jasmine flowers littering the floor.

 

Stiles looked from Peter to the flowers and back and forth until Peter gently held him still.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Peter’s smile was infectious and Stiles honest-to-god giggled.

 

“I guess you’ll never forget flowers on our anniversary.” Peter said before he could stop himself.

 

Stiles’ eye widened further and his heart stuttered.

 

Before Peter could open his mouth to take it back, Stiles kissed him hard.

 

He rested their foreheads together and whispered softly, “No, I won’t.”

 

They stayed like that for a long moment, listening to each other’s breathing, heartbeats, and the soft wind blowing through a, now broken, window dragging more sweet, gentle perfume from where the plants broke through.

 

Stiles shivered and the two of them looked out the window together.

 

The moonlight shone brightly, casting shadows on the wood floors.

 

Peter spoke softly, looking at the moon, as he held Stiles, gently stroking his back.

 

“When I was young, my sister told me a story about a moon cycles and patterns. She said that when mates _join_ for the first time, the cycle the moon is in can effect their bond. She said that during full moons, the bond is very strong. During waning or waxing cycles, they’re strong but require more bonding in order to strengthen it.”

 

Peter turned to Stiles and look directly into his eyes.

 

“Then she told me that there is one moon, the rarest moon possible. No one had a name for it, but my family called it the Hollow Moon. It’s said that if mates bond for the first time under this moon, their bond is forever and always tied. It never wavers, never falters, and remains strong no matter what.”

 

Stiles’ eyes had filled with unshed tears of his overwhelming love and adoration for Peter. He never talked about his family, never talk about anything from before.

 

“Do you know when they said a Hollow Moon would be present, Stiles?”

 

Stiles shook his head, two tears breaking free and falling down his cheeks.

 

Peter gently wiped them away, hands never falling away from Stiles.

 

“Talia said that according to the lore, there were two conditions for the Hollow Moon to show.”

 

Stiles asked in a broken voice, anticipating the answer with baited breath, “What were they?”

 

“The first was when a mate was brought back either from death or the brink of death, their bond would reconnect and its intensity would fill the hollow of the moon that had been missing from their bond.”

 

More tears fell and caught on Peter’s thumbs.

 

“T-the second?”

 

“The second would occur when two mates’ bond was fate, inseparable from the beginning. A pure bond so powerful that their bond exaggerated the moon’s light. A _true_ bond that could never be separated.”

 

Peter kissed Stiles’ lip in an innocent, chaste expression of devotion.

 

Peter laugh lightly against the soft, swollen lips, “I guess we’re two for two.”

 

Stiles laughed brightly, eyes crinkling with the effort as he laid back on the bed, feathers flying out around him.

 

Peter bounced down next to him and pulled Stiles to his chest.

 

“I think we needed to buy a new comforter.” Stiles mumbled against the warmth of Peter’s body.

 

He didn’t miss when Peter’s heart sped up as he said “we.”

 

Peter kissed the top of Stiles’ head and smiled, “Yes, _we_ do. _We_ need a new window too.”

 

Peter pulled the ripped covers over them as they laughed and then watched as Stiles’ eyes began to stay closed longer and longer.

 

“Goodnight Stiles.”

 

“Goodnight Peter, I love you.”

 

When Peter was sure Stiles was asleep, he whispered something into his mate’s ear.

  
Something he found out a long time ago but only felt comfortable using when Stiles couldn’t hear.

 

He didn’t like the risk, knew Stiles still felt uncomfortable when he heard it, but in that moment.

 

Just once, Peter want to say it out loud to Stiles, even if the other was unconscious.

 

“I love you too, Mieczyslaw Stilinski. I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower Language:
> 
> Happiness, plain and simple is what the honeysuckle stands for in the Victorian interpretation. It symbolizes devoted affection in the form of a lover’s embrace. If you look at the way the honeysuckle clings to its habitat like a post or a wall, it looks very much like a love bind.When you have a honeysuckle plant growing in your garden, this works to protect your garden from evil. Essentially, because of the sweet smelling blossoms of this plant, they’re believed to induce dreams particularly about love and passion. People also used to believe that if honeysuckle is brought into the house when it’s in bloom, a wedding will soon take place in that household.
> 
> The jasmine flower is associated with love. Jasmine also symbolizes beauty and sensuality. Jasmine represents appreciation and good luck. When used in religious ceremonies jasmine represents purity. Legend has it that it is cupid’s fault. The one owner of a jasmine plant in Tuscany forbad even a cutting from his plant. Cupid had his way, and the land owner’s gardener could not help but include a jasmine branch in the bouquet of flowers for his mistress on her birthday. That was enough for her, and she then wed the gardener. To this day, Tuscan tradition includes the jasmine flower on a woman’s wedding day.
> 
> P.S. I debate over Peter knowing Stiles' real name and using it for about five hours. Obviously, I used it and it will definitely come into play later. :)


	9. Oh My God, I Think I Might Have Made A Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?!?! Two chapters in as many days? Avoiding packing will do that. Also, this came out of absolutely nowhere, but my muse insisted it should be written and I must listen to him. 
> 
> Uhm, yeah. So enjoy!!! Thank you for all the kind words! Some stuff is going to go down soon and y'all should prepare yourselves. 
> 
> P.S. Angst and some of the sappiest shit I've ever written in this chapter (I was finishing Black Sails so I think it's fair -- also watch Black sails if you haven't already. It is one of the best shows ever created.) Peter Hale does not want to make writing this simple.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Love,  
> Faye.

“I’m not saying they’re just related, Peter, I’m saying they’re _connected._ ” Stiles sighed.

 

This is the fifth time he’s tried to tell Peter that something has felt off since everything happened. He felt it in the air, the soil, the trees, and the water. There was something lurking and no one else believed him.

 

“Those mean the same thing Stiles.” Peter commented as he flipped more pancakes. He was nervous and when he’s nervous he needs to do something tactile. It just so happened it was pack day, a concept devised by Erica and Stiles, where they all met up and spent the day strengthening their pack. They often ended up drunk, fighting, or passed out from exhaustion.

 

This was the first time they were having breakfast. The first time they would all be at Peter’s house. The first time they would all be together since Stiles was turned, since they’d bonded, since they had become mates. It was all a little much and Peter’s nine plates of pancakes proved as much.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts when Stiles grabbed his hands after turning off the pilot light.

 

“It’s just the pack, Peter. They know us. They _love_ us.” Stiles placed Peter’s hands on his waist and the alpha held them tight out of instinct.

 

 “They all love _you_ , Stiles.” Peter sighed and tried to pull away but Stiles held strong, and pulled Peter’s face to his own.

 

He stared into the conflicted storm of Peter’s blue eyes.

 

“They love _us_ , Peter. Who do they come to when they’re in trouble? Us. Who do they talk to when they need advice? Us. Who do they seek when they need to be anchored? Us. Who holds this pack together and who leads it? Us. You and I have been together in this since before we were _together_ in this. I love you. _We_ all love you, Peter. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

 

Peter blinked back the tears that’d begun to form. One night with Stiles, his _mate_ – and boy was he having trouble getting used to that – and all of his barriers he’s held have fallen, all his insecurities laid bare.

 

Peter kissed Stiles roughly and Stiles kissed back just as hard.

 

They heard cars pulling about the beginning of the driveway, about a mile down the hill and pulled apart.

 

Stiles placed one quick kiss on Peter’s lip, “I’ll set the table, _dear_.”

 

Peter laughed and pushed him away. He took a deep breath as he heard his loud pack bounding up the stairs.

 

He was finishing putting plates on the table when he heard something unexpected.

 

A knock.

 

His pack was knocking instead of bursting in like they did at Derek’s loft.

 

He was about to get the door when Stiles shouted, “Come in you dorks! You don’t have to knock!”

 

Scott was the one to open the door and peek his head around where he saw Stiles with his arms crossed and look that conveyed, “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Scott smiled and rushed in, “Hey Stiles!” and immediately rushed to hug him while the others filed in and took in their surroundings.

 

Lydia approved of the large library. Erica loved the art ordaining the wall. Derek had been here many times before so he just sat on top of the counter trying to throw fruit in his mouth but Peter slapped his hand before stopping Allison from grabbing a set of daggers in the den. Danny and Jackson were still near the open door, arguing on the porch about whether or not they need four or five bedrooms. Scott had moved next to Isaac as they stared at the massive television in the living room.

 

Stiles was happy watching everything unfold. It’d been nearly a month since they were all together, whole. It was like nothing had changed, except…

 

“So when did you and Peter hook up?” Danny whispered in his ear. Stiles jumped, he hadn’t noticed Danny move next to him, too focused on Peter showing Allison a fatal technique he used with claws, only this time with daggers.

 

Unfortunately, Danny was used to only being around Jackson, not a pack of werewolves with heightened sense of hearing and a pension for gossip.

 

He noticed they all stopped for a moment, their ears focusing but continuing their conversations nonetheless.

 

Stiles just smiled at Danny who winked back at him before shouting, “Let’s eat!”

 

Everyone settled down in the dining room food, drinks, laughter, and smiles being passed between one another.

 

“So we’re at this rooftop party for his boss,” Jackson continued as Danny groaned – he hated and loved this story because Jackson loved telling it.

 

“Danny was so nervous, because he’d been up for a promotion, that he was drinking a little too much.”

 

The table laughed, knowing exactly what Danny was like when he was drunk.

 

“We started talking to his boss and the music got louder and made it harder to hear,” he laughed the last part out and Danny buried his face in his hands.

 

“His bossed was explaining that he was allergic to the hazelnut stuff the coffee place in their office had started making. He asked Danny if he liked the hazelnut stuff.”

 

Jackson was crying from laughter at this point, “Danny said, I shit you not, actually shouted ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to ask what butt stuff I like!”

 

The whole table erupted into boisterous laughter and Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand under the table as they shared the joy. Peter’s heart stuttered but hoped no one noticed through the laughter. But Stiles did. He noticed. And the smile he received from his mate in return was bright and loving and Peter had to look away and pull away.

 

He couldn’t handle how much things had changed. He wondered if they’d changed too quickly. If Stiles was experiencing something that wasn’t entirely real. He’d felt what Stiles had felt last night, the previous weeks, and the night he bit Stiles. He knew it was real. It had always been real for him where Stiles was concerned. He just couldn’t believe that Stiles was it, the one, and what’s more is that he couldn’t entirely believe that Stiles truly felt the same. Everything was falling into place and _working_ and if there’s anything Peter has learned from his life, no matter how good something is, it would never work out for him. Everything he’s ever loved, he’s lost. Yes, he still had Derek and Cora was thriving in New York, but that’s only because they’ve lived cautious lives. Anyone Peter has put himself on the line for, has fought for, has loved deeply, he’s lost. He couldn’t do that to Stiles. Couldn’t bring him along for the journey only to not be able to see it through to the end with him. Mate or not, Peter would rather lose Stiles and let him live his life than see him die because of Peter.

 

“Peter? Peter!” Lydia shouted and Peter looked up quickly, cursing himself for getting lost in his thoughts and emotions in front of the pack. He knew they could sense something was off by the way they were looking at him. He avoided looking at Stiles, knowing that the perceptive beta would be able to tell what was going on in his head.

 

“Yeah. Sorry I was just thinking about how much money I’m going to have to spend on food if you all continue coming over for breakfast.” Peter smiled.

 

They laughed and Lydia continued, “We were all thinking about going laser tagging, do you want to come?”

 

Lydia had asked but Peter knew he well enough to know she was demanding that he join them.

 

He loved that about her.

 

“Sure, I’d love to watch you all cry when I win.”

 

The table responded in scoffs and agreed to meet in an hour.

 

They were all gathering to leave and Stiles was walking with them to the door.

 

“I brought your Jeep up in case you needed it.” Scott said with a smile and handed him his keys.

 

“Thanks man.” Stiles said with a clap on his shoulder.

 

Stiles saw Derek talking very quietly to Peter so much so that he couldn’t hear what was being said.

 

Scott spoke up towards Peter, “Do you want help cleaning up?” Stiles could hear in Scott's voice how much the beta wanted the answer to be no.

 

Before Peter could answer, Stiles, still looking at his mate who wouldn’t meet his eyes, did, “No it’s alright, I’ll stay.”

 

Scott looked between them, ready to volunteer to help before Isaac pulled him away with a look of understanding directed over his head to Stiles.

 

Stiles mouthed “Thanks,” and watched the two leave.

 

He started cleaning the table, gathering and clearing plates, not stepping towards the kitchen until Derek left.

 

“That’s not what I meant, Peter. You can’t keep doing this!” Derek shouted.

 

Peter murmured something Stiles couldn’t make out and Derek laughed, slightly disgusted.

 

“Then keep fucking up, Peter. If I can’t make you see sense, no one can. If you want to do this, I won’t stop you. I’ll just be…disappointed.”

 

Stiles heard Peter gasp lightly, a quick intake before he spoke, “Oh my God, I’m just saying I think I might have made a mistake.”

 

“Mistake or not, it’s done. Accept what’s been given. Don’t make what you _think_ is the right choice, _make_ the right choice, Peter.”

 

Derek stormed out of the house, door slamming behind him.

 

Stiles slowly continued clearing the table, small stacks gathering in the center. Something towards the end of the meal made something change in Peter. He suspected something, but didn’t want to ask, afraid of the answer.

 

Peter stood in the archway opening up to the dining room and watched Stiles, thinking.

 

He was so lost. Everything was perfect, more than perfect, last night, but being with the pack had made everything so _real_. It scared him. Stiles and his smile, his warmth, his power, and his love for Peter scared him. The thought of losing Stiles in any way scared him to death. Stiles had always been more to him than part of the pack, something always drawing him to have to be nearer to him than necessary, touch a little more, look at a little longer, and say more than he wanted to. He should have seen this coming, honestly, but Stiles has been a blind spot in his life since the moment he laid eyes on him.

 

Stiles spoke softly, apprehensive, “Would you fill the sink with hot water and I’ll bring these in?”

 

It was a simple question, but nothing about Stiles had ever been simple, nothing was ever just superficial.

 

Peter was in turmoil. Two parts of him splitting in an ultimatum that was sure to destroy him no matter what.

 

Stiles looked up to him, about to ask if he’d heard him, but smiled when he caught Peter’s eye.

 

When Peter saw the warm, if not reserved, smile lift Stiles’ cheek, he knew. It had always been him. It would always be him. Now that he’d known what if felt like to have Stiles in his arms, to kiss him, hold him, love him, he couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go. And anyone who dared to stop them, to separate them, would meet a grave end, of that Peter was sure.

 

Peter walked with loud, determined steps and crowded Stiles against the table, lifting his legs until Stiles sat down.

 

Stiles' breath caught and his heart started beating rapidly against his chest. He had no idea what was going on with Peter, but he seemed to reach some decision.

 

“I love when you do that,” Peter whispered hotly against his neck.

 

“Stack the dishes? Because if that mean we have sex, we’re having the pack over all the time.”

 

Peter laughed and his smile was warm and reached his eyes when he looked back at Stiles. God, he loved him.

 

Stiles caught the change in Peter eyes and pulled him closer with his legs, warmth making him feel safe.

 

“Alright, what’s going on with you? We were all having a great time but you changed when I grabbed your hand.”

 

Peter sighed, emotionally exhausted, and pleaded with his eyes for Stiles not make him have this conversation right now.

 

“I-if you’re not okay with the pack knowing about us right now, that’s fine, Peter. I don’t know how long it’ll be until they put it together, but I promise I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want.”

 

Stiles’ genuine concern and sincerity broke something in Peter and he sat down in the chair beside him.

 

He sighed and tried to explain the crisis he was in without hurting Stiles.

 

“Stiles, I never thought you were possible.”

 

Stiles' brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in confused, “What does that mean?”

 

Peter smiled, _“My...mate._ All my life I was told that finding one’s mate was to be complete. Since I was young, it was mates this and mates that. It was everywhere. While kids at school discussed prom dates and who was sleeping with who, those in our pack discussed mates and shifts and cycles. It’s hard not to want that as a kid, you know? To want,what was arguably the most wonderful and life defining moment in a werewolf’s life.”

 

Stiles nodded, unsure of where Peter was going with this.

 

“But as I got older, I saw the reality. I saw people I loved, had known all my life lose their mates, their reasons for living. They were never the same after that, barely human. Their life, their entire life lost in an instant. Some died of broken hearts, others took…took matters into their own hands, others lost their minds. It’s one of the most horrific and heartbreaking things to witness, let alone experience. So I decided that I wouldn’t seek it, would do everything in my power to never be that vulnerable. I never wanted someone to have that power over me. To be able to ruin me with one word, one action.”

 

Stiles moved to kneel in front of Peter, grabbing onto his hands to anchor the both of them. Peter's heart rate was all over the place and Stiles was worried.

 

Peter sniffed, continuing on, “So you see, I never expected you Stiles. I never expected my mate because I never wanted to. But there was something that kept pulling me towards you, I thought it was just attraction, but it wasn’t. I was too blind for _so long_ to see it. See _you_ for what you were going to be to me.”

Peter took a deep breath while Stiles remained silent. 

The next thing out of Peter’s mouth surprised Stiles.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles, voice hoarse, whispered, “For what?”

“For bringing you into this. I didn’t know, Stiles, you have to believe me. I didn’t know you were my mate until I bit you. I didn’t want this for myself, let alone for you. But once I knew, I couldn’t let go. I-I _can’t_ let go. Everything I’ve felt from you is everything I wanted as a child. I feel you wholly and without hesitation Stiles. No one has ever wanted me in the way you do and I’ve never wanted anyone in the way I want you. It scared me. You scare me. The thought of either of us having to go through what I saw growing up scares me.”

 

Stiles cleared his throat over the lump that had formed.

“So when I grabbed your hand?”

“I felt the unconditional love and happiness you had from our pack and towards me. I couldn’t handle it. I thought of everything I stand to lose. I have a lot of enemies who would love to see me hurt, Stiles. I haven’t always been in Beacon Hills and I haven’t always been how I am now. There are things…about my past that no one knows Stiles. Things that make it hard to look in the mirror some day, things that are so, so dark, things that someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with or suffer from. I don’t deserve you Stiles. I don’t think you should have to be with me just because we’re mates. I think you should choose me without this hanging over your head. I don’t want you to lose out on your life because I forced you to be a part of mine.” 

Peter looked up, tears in his eyes and saw Stiles, speechless and in shock. 

Stiles stood up and Peter sat still.

Stiles paced for what felt like hours. Peter was amazed he was still standing there. 

He stopped suddenly and looked at Peter before running out the door. 

Peter flinched as the door slammed shut.

His head collapsed in his hands. He didn’t want to hurt Stiles, but as the words flowed through him, he had no choice but to tell the truth. 

His head flew up when the door flew open again, Stiles rushing towards him and throwing his cell phone at him.

Peter looked at Stiles, confused.

“Read.” Stiles demanded, arms crossed.

Peter looked at the phone and saw that they were messages between Stiles and Lydia. 

_May 26 th 3:49 A.M. Stiles: Do you think it’s possible to be in love with someone and not know it?_

_May 26 th 4:00 A.M. Lydia: Do you think it’s possible for me to get a good night's sleep without asking me questions with obvious answers? Why do you ask anyway?_

_May 26 th 4:05 A.M. Stiles: I don’t know. I think I’m in love, but I never felt this way about anyone…not even you. This is…it’s different. It’s stronger, something I feel more deeply and more inherently than anything I felt before. I still love you though, just not in that way. Not like this._

_May 26 th 4:12 A.M. Lydia: Yes, Stiles. I think it’s possible to be in love and not know it. I think that it’s easier when the other person knows and can reciprocate as well. Especially with you, I can see why you have doubts. You feel things intensely Sti and it's difficult for you to gauge and grasp what you’re feeling. But if you’ve come to me with this, then you’ve obviously reached a decision, but you’re looking advice. Right?_

_May 26 th 4:22 A.M. Stiles: Yeah. I am. I don’t think he’ll reciprocate though, but I can’t live with him not knowing._

_May 26 th 4:23 A.M. Lydia: Well, you pretty much only talk to and hang out with the pack so it’s someone we know. It’s a guy so that narrows it down. There’s Scott which is a no. Isaac, but you’d never betray Scott and he’s not your type. Boyd isn’t gay so no. Danny would be a maybe if he wasn’t with Jacks. Jackson is a hard no. So that leaves Derek and Peter. Derek is a firm maybe, slightly your type, he’s bi, and you two are together as much as any of us. But he’s clearly falling for Allison and you wouldn’t get in between that. So that leaves Peter. Peter fucking Hale. Our Alpha. Honestly Stiles, you’ve never been afraid of a challenge. _

_May 26 th 4:33 A.M. Stiles: Jesus Christ, you should be Sheriff. No offense to my dad, but you’re a genius. And, because I know you love to hear it, you’re right. First, you’re sworn to secrecy because we’re best friends and that comes with the territory. Second, there’s just something about him that keeps drawing me in. He’s smug, annoying, pompous at times, attractive (and worse he knows how attractive he is,) domineering, possessive, and he gets under my skin so easily and fuck I’m totally in love with him. Fuck, Lyd what am I going to do?! I’m freaking out. _

_May 26 th 4:45 A.M. Lydia: You’re going to tell him WHEN YOU’RE READY. Sort yourself out and decide if this is really how you feel. If what you feel is real, then you have tell him, regardless of your fear of rejection. You should be okay with that because I rejected you so many times when you thought you were in love with me. Just decided if this, if he, is what you want and then, I say, go for it. We don’t live in a normal, go with the flow life, Sti. Our lives are dangerous and we can’t live in what ifs. You said it yourself, you can’t live with him not knowing and he’s the leader of our pack. You can’t exactly avoid him. Just figure out how you feel._

_May 26 th 4:46 A.M. Stiles: I love him. _

_May 26 th 5:00 A.M. Lydia: Then tell him. _

_May 26 th 5:01 A.M. Lydia: And take me to breakfast since you woke me up. _

_May 26 th 5:05 A.M. Stiles: Lol, be there in ten. I’m buying._

_May 26 th 5:06 A.M. Lydia: Damn right you are. _

Peter’s hands were shaking, grasp loose on the phone. The conversation was dated one day before he’d bit Stiles. One fucking day. He’d never known…never even suspected.

 

“Yeah no shit! Of course you never suspected Peter! I worked so hard to keep those feelings in, to hide them from you until I was ready. I waited so long to tell you. I’d been in love with you, struggling to put a name on it, for months before that conversation. I wanted to tell you so badly but you made it so difficult to want to tell you because you always distanced yourself from us.”

 

Stiles sighed, frustrated, and continued, “That morning, at breakfast, I told Lydia that I was going to tell you that night, no matter what. It was our pack night. We all would’ve been there and I planned on pretending I didn’t have a ride home so you could drive me. I was going to ask you to stop at the gardens near my house and force you out of the car and then tell you. I planned all out this out because I wanted to remember the moment, even if you rejected me, because it would’ve reminded me how brave I was to follow my heart and if you reciprocated I would’ve never forgotten it.”

 

Peter just took all of this in, in absolute shock that Stiles had chosen him so long ago and wasn’t blinded or entranced or forced, he was one hundred percent choosing Peter. Peter had never felt more stupid in his life. Stiles had blinded Peter from everything, including himself.

 

“And now? You are trying to tell me, _tell me_ , that you think I’m better off? Without you? Fuck you Peter! Fuck you! You have no idea how much you meant, _mean_ , to me. No idea. If you’re too blind to see that I’m _willingly_ choosing you, as if I had any other fucking choice, given that you have so me wrapped around you I can’t see anything else, then that’s your fault. Because…because I’m not leaving. So whatever it is you have cooked up inside your head, get it the fuck out. I’m never in any more danger than the rest of us. No one makes me do anything more than I want to do. Even you. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in a long time. And I love you, whether that scares you or not, I’m in love with you, you dumbass.”

 

Stiles was panting from anger, exhaustion, and passion.

 

Peter took a moment to gather himself, this was not how he imagined today or any day going really, but here they were.

 

He’d decided. Stiles had decided. They were in it together or not at all. 

He couldn’t believe that his mate was as stubborn as he was. He loved it.

 

“I-“ Peter started.

 

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I love you too Stiles. I’m an idiot.’ I will beat the shit out of you.” Stiles interrupted, arms crossed.

 

“I love you too Stiles. I’m an idiot. I just have to tell you one more thing.” Peter smiled and stepped towards Stiles and Stiles met him in turn.

 

“There may or may not be a similar conversation on my phone, with Derek, from last year.”

 

Stiles pushed Peter onto the table, plates crashing on the floor.

 

“You bastard!”

 

Peter laughed as Stiles climbed onto the table after him.

 

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.”

 

“You haven’t even begun to see dirty, Mr. Hale.” Stiles leaned down kissing Peter hungrily, tongue delving in immediately.

 

Peter groaned and ground his hips up toward Stiles.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles moaned as he pulled his shirt over his head. He ripped Peter’s apart in the frenzy and scratched him in the process.

 

Peter moaned louder than Stiles had heard before and did it again.

 

“Fuck Stiles, don’t stop!” Peter cried out.

Stile was grinding at a steady pace now, fevered, feeling as much of Peter as he could, scratching harder with each moan and gasp Peter graced him with.

 

Peter’s hands had latched onto Stiles’ waist and were gripping so hard that Stiles were sure to bruise if he weren’t a werewolf.

 

He loved it.

 

“Fuck P-Peter, I’m close.” Stiles moaned, hips moving faster, delicious friction driving them both to ruin, even through their jeans.

 

“So close, Stiles. Fuck, don’t stop.” Peter panted, chest heaving from the sheer intensity of Stiles.

 

Peter gripped tighter holding Stiles as close to him as possible.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles gasped.

 

He scratched Peter again, his nails catching on Peter’s nipples and Peter came with a loud, strong growl, Stiles following him just as intensely.

 

They both lay, Stiles with his head on Peter’s chest, panting against one another.

 

Peter started laughing uncontrollably suddenly and Stiles pulled himself up to look down at his mate.

 

“What is it?” He asked from above him, smiling brightly, sated. He liked seeing Peter like this. A Peter only he got to see.

 

“ _We_ need new plates.”

 

Stiles looked at the disaster surrounding the table and started laughing with him.

 

“Yes, _we_ do.” Stiles kissed Peter again and poured his love into it.

 

When he pulled away, Peter sighed happily.

 

“I love you Stiles and I’m sorry.” Peter said softly and nothing in Stiles ever felt more complete.

 

“I love you too Peter.”

 

Stiles phone rang and he begrudgingly got off Peter to answer it, the telltale ring of No New Friends started playing.

 

Peter looked curiously at Stiles.

“Hey Lyd, what’s up?”

 

Peter started laughing and laughed harder when heard Lydia yelling at Stiles to stop making out and get to laser tag. If only she knew.

 

“Yup, on are way ma’am.”

 

Stiles hung up as Lydia yelled at being called ma’am.

 

“Let’s clean ourselves up and head over. I can’t wait to destroy you at laser tag.”

 

Peter kissed Stiles before guiding him upstairs, “I’d love to see you try, Red.”

 As they climbed to the second floor, Stiles swore he saw a shadow dance across the curtains. He shivered, feeling a shift in the air.

 

"If you hurry, we can take a quick shower." Peter called from the bathroom, water already running.

The chill in Stiles remained even as the water and and Peter's arms surrounded him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Stiles' personal ringtones. I love his friendship with Lydia. I love love.


	10. Waiting Patiently Was Waiting Taking Up Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just ridiculous. Honestly, I haven't gone through a writing phase like this in a very long time.  
> I'm also an impatient person, so I just post when things are done.  
> Some people prefer to space things out, but I have so many other plans that I feel the need to get things out asap. 
> 
> That being said, I told you brace yourselves. Next couple of chapters, shit gets real. People will be tested, friendships possibly in ruins, hearts broken (???), who fricken' knows. My muse is on full blast right now and demands satisfaction.
> 
> I love you all and I hope you're still enjoying where this is going. This chapter was hard for me to finish. I'm still dealing with a lot of grief and well...they say write about what you know.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I do so love it. :)
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> Love,  
> Faye

“Stiles man, no one can reach you. Call me back.”  
  
“Sti, you need to call us back or come to Peter’s.”

  
“Stiles, it’s Danny. I got that book you ask for last week. You owe me big time.”  
  
“Hey Stiles, do you know how to get red wine out of carpet? Time is of the essence bro.”  
  
“When I find you, I’m going to punch you Red.”  
  
“Hey son, can you call one of us so you _friends_ leave the house.”  
  
“Stiles. I found it.”

 

Stiles jumped up, papers temporarily stuck to his forehead, falling to the ground.

 

64missed text. 109 missed calls.

 

“God, don’t they have lives.” Stiles mumbled as he answered the one texted he’d been waiting for.

 

He dialed the number as he pulled on his hoodie.

 

“Deaton, you sure it’s it?”

 

“Why do you continue to question me, Stiles?” Deaton sighed.

 

“Because it annoys you.” Stiles laughed, throwing hundred-year-old books around in search of his keys.

 

“You and Peter were made for each other.”

 

Stiles heart stuttered at the mention of his mate. He was sure he and the entire pack were worried about him, but they wouldn’t listen to him. So, he did what he did best. Research.

 

It’s been three weeks since he started. Two weeks since he’d found a lead. One week since he locked himself up in an old storage unit they hadn’t used in years. It wasn’t until the werewolf thing that he had needed a place away from it all.

 

“Stiles?” Deaton tried again.

 

“Yeah, sorry. We were. Can you meet me at the diner off 6th in ten minutes? I can’t stay, but I’m definitely onto something Deaton.”

 

“I’ll be there.” Deaton replied calmly.

 

Something in Deaton’s voice made Stiles paused but his need for the information the man had made him rush out the door.

 

 

Stiles pulled up outside the diner and ran in to find Deaton and someone else.

 

Stiles groaned and stumbled his way towards the two men and into the booth.

 

“I hope you ordered a veggie omelet with fresh fruit, Dad, or else I’ll have hit you.”

 

Stiles tried for a light tone, but the stern look on his father’s face and the uncomfortable look on Deaton’s made him straighten up.

 

“Where the hell have you been Stiles? I have ten people in and out of my home all hours of the night look for you. I’ve seen more of Peter Hale than I would like to and that man broods to much when he’s worried and his nephew is just as bad. So please, I’m begging you to let them know you’re at least alive.”

 

Stiles sighed, “Yeah you’re right. I’ve just been…busy.” Stiles rarely held anything from his father. Even now, if something was going on with the pack, his dad knew. He didn’t like holding things back, but if it kept his dad safe, Stiles would lie until he was blue in the face.

 

“With research,” He dad offered.

 

Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise.

 

“You’re my son, Stiles and I’ve spent plenty, too many nights, waking up and looking the way you do now. I don’t want to know, until you want to tell me. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

 

Stiles smiled, he loved his dad.

 

“I’m okay, Dad.”

 

His dad nodded just as a call came in on his radio from Parrish.

 

“Sheriff, we’ve got 505A on Cherry Street.”

 

The sheriff sighed and polished off his coffee, “Duty calls.”

 

Stiles watched his dad grab his coat and something else, wrapped in parchment.

 

He dad set it in front him and kiss the top of Stiles head, “Read it when you’re ready son.”

 

Stiles placed shaking heads on the small parcel and pulled it towards him.

 

Deaton cleared his throat. Stiles had forgotten he was there.

 

“I have a meeting I have to get to, Stiles. There are three books in this bag. One on what you were looking for and two on the cross-references I could find. I hope it helps.”

 

Stiles shook Deaton’s hand and thanked him before getting a large coffee to go.

* * *

 

Stiles sighed, exhausted. Three long books later and he only had about two paragraphs worth of what he was looking for.

 

“Fuck!” He shouted, voice bouncing back off the metal walls.

 

A knock sounded at the metal gate and Stiles pulled it open, thinking it was his Dad.

 

His heart stopped when he saw who stood on the other side.

 

“Peter?” He gasped out.

 

He expected Peter to hit him, yell at him, throw him against the wall.

 

He didn’t expect Peter to hug him.

 

“Missed you, Red.” Peter whispered against his neck.

 

Stiles collapsed in his arms, kissing as much of Peter as he could. He couldn’t remember missing someone this much.

 

Peter pulled Stiles towards him and kissed his gently, savoring their reconnection.

 

Peter pulled back and looked around, “Christ, you’ve been…busy.”

 

Stiles laughed and watched Peter clear a stack of notes and sat down on the makeshift cot.

 

“I have. Waiting patiently was taking up too much space in my head and I wanted to be sure.”

 

Peter’s eyebrows shot up, “Of?”

 

Stiles took a deep breath; it was going to feel good to finally tell someone other than Deaton about this.

“Okay so ever since I turned, something has been off, something I can’t put my finger on.”

 

Stiles sat down on the ground in front of Peter, excitement boiling over.

 

“It isn’t just a feeling and it isn’t a side effect of everything we’ve been through, it’s something else, something…more. It’s like there’s a charge in the air, like a thunderstorm is about to hit but just won’t break through. Something is building out there, Peter. Something strong. Something different. Something I’ve never felt before or that we’ve seen before.”

 

“And we didn’t listen when you first told us, that’s why you’re here.” Peter added, a little shame in his voice.

 

“Yes, but that’s a good thing,” he smiled at Peter, “I’ve been through every text, every tome, and I think I’m onto something.”

 

Peter smiled, he loved when Stiles was focused and bloodthirsty to find out everything.

 

“Tell me everything, Red.”

 

The feral smile that Stiles gave in return would forever be burned in Peter’s mind.

 

 

Three hours and six cups of coffee later, Stiles finished catching Peter up on what he’d found.

 

Peter stared for a long time before speaking, “It’ still pretty thin to me.”

 

Stiles groaned, “When have I ever been wrong about something like this Peter?”

 

“Well there was that thing with the pixies, the thing with the bogles, and that whole thing with gnomes was a disaster.”

 

“Oh come on!” Stiles whined to Peter’s amusement, “First of all, the things with the gnomes was a group disaster. Secondly, I didn’t have nearly enough time to research as I have now.”

 

He continued seriously, “I’m right about this, Peter. I know I am.”

 

Peter smiled wider, “Then I believe you. What do we do?”

 

Stiles warmed at Peter acceptance and then paled because he’d only gotten so far.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t been able to find anything else. Danny has a book for me and the three Deaton gave me only gave me so much to work with.”

 

Peter sighed and pulled Stiles to sit down next to him, “Then we work with what we have, we train for known weaknesses, and we fortify our wards and perimeter. We prepare as best we can, Stiles.”

 

Stiles nodded and sighed as Peter held him close, “Their not going to happy with more training, even with the shift coming up.”

 

“Once they hear what’s headed our way, I think they’ll be more than amenable.”

 

Stiles looked to the side at Peter with a slight smirk.

 

“Or you could always flash your eyes red and be the big bad wolf I know and love.”

 

Peter leaned in and as Stiles went to kiss him but instead found Peter scenting him instead.

 

“God, I’ve missed that smell.”

 

Stiles hand had found its way to Peter’s hair, softly stroking at the nape of his neck.

 

“I haven’t showered in three days, what kind of smell do I have?” Stiles laughed.

 

Peter looked up, his face open and eyes warm.

 

“You smell like home.”

 

Stiles smiled and kissed Peter softly.

 

Peter chased the kiss as Stiles laid down. He just needed to breathe Stiles in, hold him close.

 

His hands slid under Stiles and caught on something underneath his chest.

 

He grabbed it to move it out of the way, but Stiles caught his hand in an instant, body shooting up and pushing Peter out of the way.

 

Stiles held it close to the chest and Peter waited until he was ready to talk.

 

“I want to tell you something.”

 

Peter moved closer, “Okay.”

 

“I don’t really talk about much, but I think about it…her…a lot.”

 

Peter inhaled slightly, knowing where this was headed and in disbelief that Stiles was talking to him about this.

“My mom was incredible, Peter,” Stiles sighed and looked to the ceiling, “She really was. She made the best peanut butter cookies I ever had. She always smelled like tulips and fresh cotton. She never made me be anything I didn’t want to be and never stifled my dreams, even when I said I want to become dog.”

 

Peter laughed loudly and Stiles joined in, their hands linking together, seeking one another out.  


“I know the irony isn’t lost on me either, Peter. She was everything to me. When you’re a child, your mother is your entire world, you know? She’s your best friend, your greatest teacher, and the one you come to when you feel like your world is ending. One of the things I remember most about her is how fiercely protective she was. I think she would’ve really liked you. You two could’ve discussed strategies on how to keep me out of trouble. I mean, she had no qualms about standing up to anymore. At a community meeting, they wanted to put a parking lot over the community garden for the city council. She spoke for three hours and was arrested because she refused to leave until they agreed. I remember, I was about five, watching my dad come in to arrest my mom over a garden. It was the most amazing thing to me.”

 

Stiles laughed brokenly, tears beginning to form.

 

“W-When she died, I broke. My entire world shattered into pieces. I remember, for months, I would wake up thinking it was all a dream, expecting her the next morning to be making waffles. When I finally accepted it, I was lost all over again. Scott was the only person I knew. He was my best friend. He pieced me back together with fart jokes and sugar highs and makeshift forts. He doesn’t know it, but he saved my life back then. I was young, sure, but I can’t imagine who I would’ve been without him.”

 

Peter held tighter onto Stiles hand as he watched the tears flow.

 

“I miss her so much, Peter. Some days I can’t stand it because I want to see her, talk to her, tell her everything. I want to tell her about. I wanted her to meet my friends, to take awkward pictures of me at high school dances, to cry at my wedding, and hold her grandchildren. She gets to do none of that because she’s just…fucking gone.”

 

Stiles started crying steadily now and Peter pulled him into his arms and cradled him gently.

 

“I know how hard this is Stiles. I didn’t lose my family when I was as young as you, but I was young enough. You’re allowed to grieve for as long as you want. You’re allowed to be mad, to cry and scream until you feel nothing. I still have days like that. It’s unbearable and unfair. But I know,” he lifted Stiles head up to look into the brown eyes full of pain, “I _know_ that she would be happy that you’re living your life, that you want all of those thing, and that, despite her being gone, you continue to be happy and healthy and so very loved.”

 

Stiles kissed Peter firmly and pulled him closer, breathing hard.

 

Peter pulled back and kissed Stiles’ forehead, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.” Stiles mumbled against Peter’s chest before he pulled back.

 

“Not that I’m not grateful for you sharing that with me, but what brought that on?” Peter questioned cautiously.

 

“This.” Stiles held up the parcel in his hand.

 

“Her journal.”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

“Well, I let you read it. I should prob—”

 

“Stay.” Stiles requested, “Please, stay.”

 

Peter stayed close and watched as Stiles gently unwrapped it.

 

True to his dad’s words, the journal was a deep black with intricate white swirls all around it.

 

It was tightly bound and filled with gold-line pages. Wrapped in two simple cords and a light purple ribbon bookmark down the center.

 

Stiles gently unwound it and and opened it to the first page.

 

There in his mother’s curvy, delicate handwriting was his name. Well, what he thought was his name for a long time.

 

He read aloud without hesitation, he wanted to share this with Peter, completely.

 

“My sweet, little Mischief,” he laughed. “I don’t when or if you’ll ever receive this, but I hope you do. I would hate for all of my hard work to go to waste. Maybe you’ll just find this when you’re older and go through the things in the attic. They’re probably still in the exact same place as I left them because your father never moves a damn thing.”

 

They both laughed at the remark because Noah Stilinski never so much as moved the couch in the living room.

 

“You’re such a smart and curious child and I know you’ll always be that way. Which is why I wanted to give you this gift. Since the day I found out I was pregnant, I knew I wanted you to know everything. My mother tried to keep it from me, but my grandmother was a force to be reckoned with and on my sixth birthday I found out what I was to become. A spark. She said it with such pride that I knew it was something special. Not everyone in my family was one and not everyone was as adept as I was. There are many different types and strengths and I wanted to master them all. That’s when I moved to Beacon Hills, to study with the supernatural here. I was told the were the best and I wanted to learn from the best. There was a young werewolf that I met in the emissary library. We became quick friends, bouncing ideas off one another and studying until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore. Mischief, if you’re ever in serious trouble, find Talia Hale. The Hales will protect you.”

 

Peter gasped and looked to Stiles in disbelief. Talia had never told him about this.

 

“By now, I’m sure you have a hundred and one questions flying through you head. They will all be answer in this journal. I want you to know everything I know. I hope to be there to teach you everything. To create. To bring life and love into your world even more so than you do now. There is so much you’re capable of and I know you will do whatever is right. You are my son. My light. My life. I love you. Mom.”

 

Stiles slammed the book closed and set it on the table beside him before laying back on the cot.

 

Peter spoke up softly, “Are you okay?”

 

Stiles smiled.

 

_The Hales will protect you._

He grabbed for Peter who moved to lay down next to him.

 

“Yeah, just creeped out that my mom is always right, even from beyond the grave.”

 

Peter laughed, “How so?”

 

“She said, ‘The Hales will protect you,’ and she wasn’t wrong.”

 

Peter moved to kiss Stiles, but Stiles’ phone rang.

 

“I’m going to throw that thing against the wall.”

 

Stiles laughed and answered it, knowing it was Derek by his ringtone, Werewolves of London. This was recently changed from just the sound of dogs barking because Derek had gone to teach a pack in London about a new way to work against mountain ash.

 

Stiles laughter died when he heard why Derek was calling.

  
Scott was gone.

 

Peter already had his coat on and was waiting by the door.

 

“Grab the most important stuff, I’ll be waiting in the car.” Peter kissed Stiles before running out.

 

Stiles was furious.

 

He pulled every piece of information that he didn’t have memorized into his bag, his mother’s journal included.

 

He slammed down the gate and locked it tight, placing a quick, but deadly, ward over the door just in case.

 

He rushed to Peter’s car.

 

“Drive like hell, Peter.”

 

No one messed with his pack. No one messed with his best friend.

 

Stiles would kill anyone, anything that stood in his way.

 

Peter could feel the anger and the power coming off Stiles in waves. He loved it. Under different circumstances, he would already have had Stiles in the back seat. But they weren’t. A member of their pack was missing, Stiles’ _best_ friend was missing and Peter would destroy anything in their path to get him back. No one messed with his family.

 

Peter grabbed Stiles’ hand and held it tight.

 

Whoever did this, picked the wrong pack to f _uck with_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I get through this fic with everyone's ringtones being revealed. Stiles' and Peter's bloodlust for revenge is everything I need right now.


	11. We Are Waiting Taking Up Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all so it's been a hell of a couple of months and I'm so sorry for the wait. College and work have really kicked up their demands and it's kicking my ass. 
> 
> As for this chapter....man this chapter has been one of the most challenging things I've written. It one of the shorter chapters, but it took me so long to figure out and I'm not even sure if I still like it, but if I didn't post it today, I don't know when I would. 
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoy it and I'd love to hear your thoughts and/or critiques or even just to let me know how y'all are doing.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this, your support and love mean so much to me. 
> 
> Love, peace, and chicken grease,
> 
> Faye.

If Peter’s hand hadn’t been wrapped around Stiles’, the spark was certain he would’ve set Deaton on fire.

 

“What do you mean he  _vanished?_ ”

 

Deaton, stoic as ever, replied calmly, “I mean he vanished. One moment he was handing me forceps and the next he was gone.”

 

Stiles pulled his hand from Peter’s and rubbed his eyes harshly. They could never catch a damn break.

 

“Anything to indicate what took him?” Peter asked.

 

Isaac spoke up from behind them, voice cracked and rough from the sobs that had torn from him when he couldn’t feel his connection to Scott anymore.

 

“J-just this.”

 

He held up a plastic bag that held a small branch littered with green leaves and small, open brown bulbs with white dots in the center.

 

Stiles moved to Isaac and rather than grab the bag, Peter was surprised when Stiles just held the beta close to him to offer as much comfort as possible.

 

Isaac broke down again and Stiles held him through it, assuring Isaac that Scott was alive and would return safely.

 

Once Isaac calmed down, asleep against Stiles’ shoulder, he turned and asked, “Erica, can you take Isaac to Derek’s with Lydia? We’ll call if anything happens. The pack just needs to be together right now.”

 

Peter watched as all of them left without question and for as long as Peter could remember, he’d never seen a non-Alpha be able to do that.

 

Once they left, Stiles cracked his neck and turned to Deaton.

 

“What is it?” He asked, serious and demanding.

 

“Atropa belladonna.”

 

“Like the poison?” Peter asked.

 

“Yes,” Deaton replied, “it’s common name is-.”

 

“Nightshade,” Stiles finished.

 

Both men looked at Stiles who groaned and threw himself into the desk chair behind him.

 

Deaton’s brow furrowed, but his tone remained the same.

 

“Yes, how did you know?”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned the chair back against the wall.

 

“My mom used to plant it.”

 

Peter was silent for a moment before he spoke again, “What does it mean? Is someone trying to poison us? Insinuate that the  _pack_  is poison?” He turned to Deaton, “And what the fuck kind of supernatural has the ability to just make people disappear?”

 

Deaton sighed, “None that I’ve ever seen. I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”

 

Peter scoffed, anger getting the best of him, “Emissaries rarely are.”

 

Deaton nodded, but Peter felt the indignation roll off of the other man in waves.

 

The Alpha moved to sit on the desk next to Stiles. He knew the anger and helplessness and curiosity running through his mate, was parallel to his own. He waited for Stiles, while Deaton pretended to be busy around the office.

 

“What the fuck are we gonna do, Peter?” Stiles asked, exasperated and exhausted.

 

Peter smiled and rubbed Stiles’ neck gently.

 

“We could always pitch your insane theory.”

 

Stiles laughed though it still sounded slightly hollow to Peter’s ears.

 

“My best friend is god knows where and you still make me laugh.”

 

Peter smiled, “I do have  _some_  good qualities.”

 

Stiles’ eyes opened wide and locked onto Peter’s.  He didn’t even have to say anything, Peter was already nodding because he already knew what Stiles was going to say.

 

Peter kissed Stiles chastely, savoring the sensation. He whispered, “I know,” against Stiles’ lips before pulling back.

 

“We’ll find him, I promise.”

 

Stiles nodded solemnly, “And I promise we’ll get to hurt, maim, and kill whoever and whatever you want.”

 

Peter laughed, “You know the way to my heart.”

 

Stiles eyes crinkled with warmth and affection from his smile.

 

A moment passed before he asked, “You really think my theory is insane?”

 

“No,” Peter responded quickly.

 

“I just know you’re right and it scares me.”

 

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Why?”

 

“Because we’re out of our depth and I can’t stand to lose anyone in the pack, most of all  _you_.”

 

Stiles didn’t say anything, choosing instead to pull Peter to him. He couldn’t assure Peter that they would all be okay or make it out alive, but this is what the pack did and why they were still together in the first place. Their dedication to and love for one another was why they were all so close and why their bond was so strong. Stiles could understand the fear Peter had because he felt it himself. But they couldn’t stand by and do nothing, especially now, because Scott was missing.

 

“I think we should tell the pack,” Peter said as they pulled away from one another.

 

“I do too,” Stiles responded softly, “why do you think I’m right?”

 

Peter smiled the wolfish smile which told Stiles that Peter was about to be insufferable.

 

“All your research and reading and you still can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

 

“Spit it out, Peter.” Stiles sighed.

 

“ _Red_ , the Atropa in Atropa belladonna is short for Atropos.”

 

Stiles slapped his right hand against his forehead harshly.

  
“I’m so stupid!”

 

Peter smiled and grabbed Stiles’ hand to pull him out of Deaton’s office, “No you’re not and we need to go  _now_.”

 

The ride to Derek’s was mostly silent, Peter trying to focus on the road and Stiles reading his mother’s journal.

 

“She loved the earth, Peter. I remember as a kid she’d always take us on a long walk home from school through the woods. I still take that way sometimes when I miss her.”

 

Peter reached for Stiles’ hand that was already reaching for his.

 

Peter kept quiet, wanting Stiles to have this moment to himself.

 

He started to feel Stiles’ hand shaking and Peter asked softly, “What is it?”

 

Stiles took a deep breath before he spoke, “She’s talking about her hopes for my future.”

 

Peter was about to ask if Stiles wanted to share, but Stiles continued.

 

“Mischief, Beacon Hills is a special place full of the most wonderful people you will ever meet, supernatural or not. I know that I won’t always be there and depending on when the day comes that I’m no longer with you, I hope you know how much I love you. As I write this, you’re sleeping in your father’s arms after crying for three hours straight. Your father is near tears from relief. As I watch two generations of Stilinski men, I can’t help but wonder what you’ll be like when you’re older. Who will be your best friend? Your first kiss? Your first love? Are you kind? Selfless? Curious? Still my little mischief? Do you still talk as much as you do now?”

 

They both laughed and Peter tightened his grip on Stiles’ hand to comfort him.

 

“I can’t properly imagine. I can only hope. Hope that you’ll be as happy and safe and loved in your life as you are right now. Hope that you know I will always love you and will always be with you. Listen for me on the whisper of the wind. Find me among the wildflowers. I’m always there, Stiles. I hope you know that no matter what happens, whatever tragedies befall you, everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason people suffer, it makes the triumph all the more rewarding. Happiness would not be so great, were it not for sadness. Always look for the light, Mischief. I love you, Mom.”

 

Stiles wiped his tears with shaking hands, letting everything fall onto the pages.

 

Peter had parked the car a while back, waiting for Stiles to finish. He pulled Stiles into his arms and held him until the sobs quieted down.

 

“I love you, Peter.”

 

“I love you too, Stiles. Are you ready to go upstairs?”

 

Stiles let out a deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for another part of their neverending night. AS he got out of the car, he stumbled, dizzy and vision blurry, but chalked it up to his exhaustion. He grabbed Peter's hand as the ascended the stairs.

 

Half an hour later and Stiles finished his theory while the pack looked at him as if he’d grown wings.

 

“So…by fate you mean like everything happens for a reason and destiny-type-shit, right?” Erica asked, shoving cereal into her mouth.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and leaned back against Peter who was standing behind him, craving Peter’s strength and warmth.

 

Peter placed his hands-on Stiles’ hip, rubbing absentmindedly against the skin, and took over the conversation.

 

“No, he means Fate with a capital F. We weren’t certain until tonight when the belladonna was left.”

 

“What does a flower have to do with it?” Allison asked as she looked at the plastic bag holding the plant.

 

Peter continued, “The Atropa in Atropa belladonna is short for Atropos, one of the three Moirai who are the Greek goddesses of fate and destiny. Atropos chooses the means of death and the end of one’s life. Her two sisters, Clotho and Lachesis give life and determine the length of life respectively. We don’t know why she’s here and whether or not her sisters are with her. All we know is that she  _is_  here and she has Scott. That’s all that matters.”

 

Lydia looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow in question.

 

“I studied mythology in college, Lydia. Don’t look so surprised.”

 

“So, the usual plan, then?” Derek asked, a fond smile on his face, “Go in blind? Claws, bows and guns blazing and hope we make it out alive?”

 

Peter smiled back, “Don’t be ridiculous, Derek.”

 

Derek’s smile fell slightly.

 

“We have to figure out where she’s hiding out first.”

 

Derek laughed and Peter felt the pack’s resolve fall into place as they gathered in the living room to work on a plan.

 

Stiles turned in Peter’s arms and Peter held him tight feeling Stiles exhaustion taking over.

 

“You okay, Red?”

 

Stiles blinked wearily at Peter, vision blurring and hairs standing on the back of his neck.

 

“I f-feel…”

 

“Stiles?” Peter asked, voice rising in concern as Stiles’ eyes fell shut against his wishes.

 

“L-love you” Stiles forced out as his head fell back.

 

Stiles felt Peter’s grip tighten on his neck and he thought Peter was screaming but his voice was so far away.

 

“STILES!” Peter screamed as he fell to the ground with his mate.

 

The pack was around them and Peter growled as Derek tried to get closer.

 

He turned to the pack,  _his_  pack and his eyes were a dark red as he firmly commanded them to do the one thing that needed to be done.

 

“ _Find her.”_

 


	12. The Earth Below Is Above My Feet When The Clock Is Laughing At Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi y'all! how are you? how were your holidays?!
> 
> so it's been a stretch...but this chapter has been a beast and i've been working on getting into grad school and then the holidays hit and blah blah, life. 
> 
> anyway i got into grad school and i start tomorrow, but...my writing bug is in full force an now that this chapter is out, the rest of the story is flowing a lot easier.
> 
> i still don't know if i like this or not, but i've been sitting on it for a month and a half and honestly this is the final draft.
> 
> so i hope y'all are still with me because we're almost done and it's going to be a hell of a ride.
> 
> love you all and hope you're all doing well!
> 
> <3

After the event of the Nogitsune, Stiles worked for months with Deaton on fortifying his mental barriers and strengthening his mental control. Which is how he knows he’s in his own head right now. His last memory was standing next to Peter, talking about finding Scott and the next he’s here, in his room at home.

When Stiles woke up, he woke as he normally did, half of his body hanging off the side, drooling and tangled up in his comforter.

“Peter?” He called out, figuring the man was close by or downstairs. He got no answer and groggily pulled himself off his bed.

He reached for his cell phone, but before he could dial Peter’s number he heard a voice calling from downstairs.

“Stiles, sweetie, time to get up! Going to be late to pick up Scott!”

Stiles’ heart stopped. It couldn’t be.

  
“Mom?” He whispered out loud to himself. He could smell pancakes and bacon and a hint of jasmine circulating through the fan in his room.

“Mom!” He shouted in distress and broke down crying when he saw his mother burst into his room.

She wrapped her arms around Stiles tightly and tried to console her son.

“What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Stiles held his mom in his arms, listening to her heartbeat, taking in everything about her.

“I missed you so much.” The tears wouldn’t stop coming and he started shaking with the force of it.

She laughed softly, “It’s only been eight hours, sweetheart.”

Stiles shook his head, but she paid him no mind.

There was a honk outside and she pulled away from him while wiping his tears away.

“That’s your father. Damn his impatience. Are you okay? Do you still want to go to school today?”

Stiles nodded his head absentmindedly, dumbstruck.

“Good! Get dressed and I’ll go yell at your dad until you’re ready.”

Another honk sounded through his window and his mom groaned before shouting.

“Noah Stilinski, I swear to god if you honk that horn one more time!”

Stiles just got dressed on autopilot before running downstairs to see his mom packing his lunch.

“I made your favorite! Oh, and the jeep will be in the shop until tomorrow. Did you want me or your dad to pick you up? Or are you getting a ride with Scott?”

“You!” Stiles shouted before realizing it.

His mom laughed warmly, “Okay, I’ll be there and maybe we can go get some ice cream. Just don’t tell your father.”

She held out the lunch and Stiles took it gently before pulling her into another hug.

As she wrapped her arms him, Stiles took everything in.   
  
Her warmth, how soft her hair was, the strength in her hug, the smell of her perfume, the entirety of his mother he always remembered but could never quite place.

Another honk and he pulled away.

His mom rolled her eyes and Stiles laughed.

“You better go, I’ll see you soon.”

Stiles nodded and walked to the door. He turned back to see his mom cleaning the kitchen.

“I love you Mom!” he called out and watched as she turned to him with a brilliant smile.  
  
“I love you more, Mischief. Have a good day!”

With that, Stiles left the house and into the warm summer sun.

If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Peter needed help. He needed Talia. His mate was unconscious and no amount of effort seemed to reach him. Deaton was no help and not even Danny could offer his random, often perfectly timed wisdom.

He’s pacing quickly at the foot of the bed, watching Stiles breathe in and out peacefully.

“FUCK!” he screamed and threw the desk in the corner across the room.

A warm hand gripped his neck firmly and Peter immediately stopped and took a deep breath.

“I know, Derek, I _know_.” He sighed and pulled Derek into the study with him.

Peter looked around nervously and with a sad smile asked Derek for the one thing he swore he never would.

“Derek, do you still have Talia’s claws?”

Derek gasped softly but then nodded in knowing acceptance.

Ten minutes later, Peter was locked in his study with the only remains of the sister he had left.

Like before he inserted the claws into his nailbeds and took a deep breath before grabbing and puncturing his own neck.

When he opened his eyes, he immediately started crying.  
  
There stood Talia, as graceful and intimidating as ever.

“Peter, sweet Peter, why are you crying?”

He felt her hand caress his face and wipe away the tears.

“It’s been so fucking long Talia. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Petey.”

Peter smiled warmly at the old nickname. No one had called him that for far too long.

“Now, why have you called me here?”

Peter took a deep breath and explained everything to her that had led to his final act of desperation.

“…and now I don’t’ know what to do or how to even help him. I love him, Talia. He’s my mate. I can’t lose him.”

Talia had been holding him close for a long time and Peter just basked in the embrace.

“She always was a tricky and petulant bitch. But she must be there for a reason. Something happened either too soon or something that shouldn’t have happened at all. Her job is to rectify that by any means necessary.”

“How am I supposed to stop her?!” Peter cried out.

Talia looked at Peter with a great sadness in her eyes and she ran her fingers through his hair, petting him like she did so long ago.

“With what you already have.”

Peter’s eye welled with tears as he silently begged for answers.

She hugged Peter to her chest and held his face when she replied simply, “Your love.”

“Peter there is one thing that Fate does not and can never control and it is love. Love is spontaneous and uncontrollable. It comes without warning and lingers long after it’s gone. Peter, your love for Stiles and your pack will see you through this. Be strong in that. Be strong in your love. Be a Hale.”

Peter could feel the connection slipping and god he just wanted to hold onto her forever.

He looked into her eye and saw the love, support, and warmth he always remembered.

“I’m always with you Peter. Always.”  
  
He hugged her tightly as the last of the connection crumbled.

“I love you, Talia.”

“I love you too, Petey.”

* * *

Stiles learned three things in the first three days.

One, Scott was still a werewolf. Two, his dad was still sheriff. Three, Stiles couldn’t remember Peter’s number.

It was like every time he went to go talk to Peter or text him, something would come up. Like Scott spilling juice all over himself or his dad starting to yell about the traffic.

And every time he let himself get distracted, he would forget more and more about Peter.

This day, though, they went to their lockers and so far, everything still looked the same and felt the same and smelled the same, but something was off. Stiles could feel it.

Scott was going on and on about Isaac, nothing new, but Stiles felt like it was forced. As if it were something he’d heard before but never understood.

The bell rang and he shook himself out of it.

Just before they part for their classes Stiles asks, “Hey, it’s been a while, did you want to go Derek’s after school?”

Scott stopped abruptly, “Who’s Derek?”

Stiles laughed, “That’s funny Scott! Remember last time we pretended he didn’t exist and I ended up with like a hundred bruises? Not something I want to relive man.”

As Scott just looked at him in utter confusion, Stiles felt something eerie click in place.

“Derek. Derek Hale.”

Scott pushed him against the lockers, “Why the fuck would we go anywhere near the Hales, Stiles?”

Stiles tried to push back, but in this life, he wasn’t a werewolf or a spark.

_Back to plain old human and weak Stiles._ He thought with a groan.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Stiles was gasping at this point and Scott didn’t ease up.

Scott noticed and dropped Stiles back on the ground with an apology.  
  
“Sorry Stiles, I-it’s just. Derek tried to kill you! I don’t know why you’d want to go see the people who hate us the most.”

Another bell rang and Scott rushed to class with an apology and a promise to see him at lunch.

But Stiles was still reeling over the fact that the pack wasn’t _The Pack_ and over the fact that in his dream world, he apparently didn’t want Peter. Which he knew was impossible, he’d want Peter no matter what. Hell, he wanted Peter when the wolf was on his murderous power trip. There’s no way what happened on the football field didn’t make him think of Peter in an entirely new and naked way. So, he knew that he needed to do something. The thought of not having Peter in his life was too much to bear.

Without thinking, he left school and walked the long walk to the Hale house.

* * *

 

Before he could even reach the front porch, Stiles was on his back and being held down by familiar claws.

He smiled at the feeling before opening his eyes to see Peter’s eyes glowing a bright blue.

He never missed Peter’s betas eyes, but fuck it they didn’t look beautiful.

Peter’s fangs retracted quickly and he looked at Stiles in confusion.

“Why aren’t you scared? You’re always scared.”

Stiles smiled, “I haven’t been scared of you since you tick-,” and he stopped because those memories weren’t real here.

But at least Peter was here. Alive.

“Petey, get off the young boy.”

Stiles would’ve laughed because, in the real world, Peter did as much. And when Stiles woke up he going to call Peter, Petey, until the day he died.

But out walked a woman that Stiles had never seen before and his entire being focused on her.

When Peter immediately moved away, though not without making eye contact with Stiles again, Stiles knew who she was.

“Talia?”

The two wolves looked at him in surprise.

“You’re Claudia’s son, aren’t you?”

Stiles nodded.

She pulled Stiles up off the ground and dusted him off like any mother would do.

“May I ask why you’re here?”

Stiles laughed, wanting so badly to get closer to Peter, but the beta looked like he was about to either tackle Stiles again or run for the woods.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She smiled warmly and Stiles felt the need to hug her. To thank her for Derek and Cora and Peter. For being in Beacon Hills, for letting Stiles into their life.

But none of that would’ve made sense in this dream.

Still, he’d surprised when both Hales replied.

“Try me.”

So, in Stiles’ own dream world, he explained everything to Talia and Peter. Peter, who looked like he was one more word away from exploding.

“So, in the real…other…whatever world outside this, I assume I’m under some spell or influence that’s keeping me here and I can’t break out.”

Talia looked at the two of them and smiled.

“It’s not the craziest thing I’ve heard, but it’s close. I do have one question though.”

Stiles looked up and god, he could see so much of Derek and Cora in those eyes and it made him long to see them again.

“If you had Peter in our, _this_ world, would you leave?”

Stiles’ heart stopped. It never crossed his mind.

Peter was staring at him in the exact same way he does in the real world and pulled Stiles into a weird nostalgic loop.

“I-I…” he trailed off incoherently.

Peter smiled and Stiles' heart started beating rapidly.

Talia spoke again, “You’d have everything you’d want. Peter, your mother, your friends. You’d be safe and loved. You’d want for nothing.”

Something in Talia’s voice changed and Stiles looked up to see her eyes glowing red.

He could feel the pull and _fuck_ did he want all of what she promised.

But…

“No!” Stiles slammed his hands on the table, breaking the spell.

“No, I don’t. Because it isn’t real! None of this is! You died in a fire and my mot-my mother died a long time ago. I miss her every day and not a day goes by that I don’t think or her, but it’s not real. I’m not doing this. I-I _can’t_ do this.”

Talia sighs.

“I really wish you wouldn’t have said that.”

She’s across the table with a hand around his throat before he can blink.

His vision starts to fade when suddenly the hand leaves his throat.

He opens his eye to see Peter fighting with Talia.

“Stiles run!” He calls out.

Stiles longs to help but runs out into the woods.

He closes his eyes and puts all of his strength into connecting with his mind and his powers.

He feels the earth start to shake and crack but he doesn’t open his eyes.

He keeps his eyes shut and waits.

He falls.

* * *

 

Peter is just coming out of his trance, placing the claws back in their protective box, when he hears Derek scream.

“PETER!”

Peter rushes up and into the other room and when he sees Stiles he rushes toward him.

Stiles is glowing with bright tendrils of red and green mixed with poison-black.

He grabs Stiles, holds him close, even as his skin and eyes start to sting and burn from the power bursting through his mate.

Stiles wasn’t going to do this alone. Peter would always be by his side.

Stiles starts to scream and Peter does too, both of them fighting an invisible force.

In a split second, it all stops.

The room is eerily still and quiet.

Peter is panting as he slowly heals, still holding Stiles close to him.

He opens his eyes slowly to find Stiles awake and staring at him.

“Hey Red,” Peter whispers softly, petting the hair away from Stiles’ sweaty forehead, “I thought I lost you for a second.”

Stiles cries silently at the sight of Peter above him. No dream could ever compare to this. He would never willingly give this up.

“For a second there, you almost did.”

Peter’s shaking hands brought Stiles’ lips toward his own and kissed him softly.

They pulled apart and Stiles slowly told Peter what happened.

“…It was probably some mix of a Djinn and her powers. I’ve never seen anything like it. For a second, a split-second Peter, I-I considered it.”

Stiles started crying again, feeling like he completely failed Peter and the pack.

Peter held Stiles against his chest and kissed his head softly, feeling so much anger at their enemies for making his mate go through this and so much unconditional love towards Stiles.

He pulled Stiles’ head back up and kissed him through the tears.

He pulled back and made sure Stiles was looking at him when he spoke.

“Stiles listen to me. You didn’t. You chose real life. You chose the pain and suffering. You chose birth and death and love and loss. You chose to live through it all instead of the ideal world. You chose _us_ , Stiles. Don’t ever forget that.”

Stiles nodded and kissed Peter desperately, pouring all of his love into it, and given by the gasp from Peter, he knew the Alpha felt it.

They pulled apart and stood up together, hand in hand.

“She used my mom against me, Peter. I can’t let that slide.”

Something dark cast over Stiles and Peter recognized it. It was the same darkness that cast over Peter when his family died.

He smiled proudly.

Stiles continued, “When we go, _I kill her._ ”

Peter kissed Stiles again, backing him against the wall. It wasn’t the time or the place, but Peter couldn’t help himself. He always knew that Stiles was vengeful and to be able to witness it, to feel it coming of his mate in waves, was too much too bear.

He halfway through getting Stiles’ jean off when Derek burst into the room.  
  
“Jesus Christ! Close the door next time.”

He’s grumbling as Stiles shamelessly slides his pants back on while Derek waited outside the room.

Peter kissed Stiles one more time and, if he’d known what was about to happen, he would’ve made it last much longer.

“What is it, Derek?”

Derek smiled a toothy and proud smile.

“We found her.”

**Author's Note:**

> message me [here](http://thecompanyofheroes.co.vu/dear%20babe#_=_)! also, it's where updates, new gifsets, etc. will be posted! thank you! :)


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